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THE  LITTLE   COLONEL:   MAID  OF 
HONOR 


Works  of 
ANNIE   FELLOWS  JOHNSTON 


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LLOYD    .    .    .    TOOK    HER    PLACE    BESIDE    THE    HARP 

(See  page  bS) 


THE    LITTLE    COLONEL 
MAID   OF   HONOR 


BY 

ANNIE    FELLOWS    JOHNSTON 

AUTHOR   OF 

"THE   LITTLE   COLONEL   SERIES,"     "BIG   BROTHER," 

"OLE   MAMMY'S  TORMENT,"     "JOEL:   A   BOY 

OF  GALILEE,"    "ASA   HOLMES,"  ETC. 


EllustrateB  bg 
ETHELDRED   B.   BARRY 


BOSTON 

L.   C.   PAGE  &   COMPANY 
PUBLISHERS 


Copyright,  iqob 
BY  L.  C.  PAGE  &  COMPANY 

(INCORPORATED) 

Entered  at  Stationers'  Hall,  London 
All  rights  reserved 


First  Impression,  October,  1906 
Third  Impression,  August,   1907 


COLONIAL   PRESS 

Electrotype*  and  Printed  by  C.  H.  Simonds  &•  Co 
Boston,    U.S.A. 


CONTENTS 


I.  AT  WARWICK  HALL i 

II.  AT  WARE'S  WIGWAM 19 

III.  IN  BEAUTY'S  QUEST 31 

IV.  MARY'S  "  PROMISED  LAND  "    .        .        .        .43 
V.  AT  "  THE  LOCUSTS  " 58 

VI.  THE  Fox  AND  THE  STORK      ....      70 

VII.  THE  COMING  OF  THE  BRIDE  .        .        .        .88 

VIII.  AT  THE  BEECHES     .         .        .        .        .        -113 

IX.  "  SOMETHING  BLUE  "        .        .        .        .        .     >  36 

X.  "A  COON  HUNT"     .        .        .        .        .        .     158 

XI.  THE  FOUR -LEAVED  CLOVER  .        .        .        .178 

XII.  THE  WEDDING  .        .        .        .        .        .        .     198 

XIII.  DREAMS  AND  WARNINGS         .        .        .        .216 

XIV.  A  SECOND  MAID  OF  HONOR  ....    241 
XV.  THE  END  OF  THE  HOUSE -PARTY  .        .        .    258 

XVI.  THE  GOLDEN  LEAF  OF  HONOR       .        .        .    275 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS 


PAGE 

"  LLOYD  .  .  .  TOOK  HER  PLACE  BESIDE  THE  HARP  " 

(See  page  68) Frontispiece 

"  IT  NEEDED  NO  SECOND  GLANCE  TO  TELL  HIM  WHO 

SHE  WAS  "  ........  2O 

"  HE  WAS  LEANING  FORWARD  IN  HIS  CHAIR,  TALKING 

TO  JOYCE  " 66 

"  A  TALL,  ATHLETIC  FIGURE  IN  OUTING  FLANNELS  "        .         84 

"A  LONG-DRAWN  '  O  -  O  -  OH  '  GREETED  THE  BEAUTI- 
FUL TABLEAU" 132 

<•'•  «  ALL  YOU  GIRLS  STANDING  WITH  YOUR  HANDS 

STUCK  THROUGH  THE  BARS'"  ....  163 

"  '  THEY  STEPPED  IN  AND  ROWED  OFF  DOWN  THE 

SHINING  WATERWAY'  " 171 

"«  ONE,  TWO,  THREE — THROW.'1"    ....    253 


THE   LITTLE   COLONEL: 
MAID   OF   HONOR 


CHAPTER   I. 

AT    WARWICK    HALL 

IT  was  mid-afternoon  by  the  old  sun-dial  that 
marked  the  hours  in  Warwick  Hall  garden;  a 
sunny  afternoon  in  May.  The  usual  busy  routine 
of  school  work  was  going  on  inside  the  great  Hall, 
but  no  whisper  of  it  disturbed  the  quiet  of  the 
sleepy  old  garden.  At  intervals  the  faint  clang  of 
the  call-bell,  signalling  a  change  of  classes,  floated 
through  the  open  windows,  but  no  buzz  of  recita- 
tions reached  the  hedge-hidden  path  where  Betty 
Lewis  sat  writing. 

The  whole  picturesque  place  seemed  as  still  as 
the  palace  of  the  Sleeping  Beauty.  Even  the  pea- 
cocks on  the  terraced  river-front  stood  motionless, 
their  resplendent  tails  spread  out  in  the  sun;  and 


2         THE  LITTLE   COLONEL:  MAID   OF  HONOR 

although  the  air  was  filled  with  the  odor  of  wild 
plum  blossoms,  the  breeze  that  bore  it  through  the 
arbor  where  Betty  sat,  absorbed  in  her  work,  was 
so  gentle  that  it  scarcely  stirred  the  vines  around 
her. 

With  her  elbows  resting  on  the  rustic  table  in 
front  of  her,  and  one  finger  unconsciously  twisting 
the  lock  of  curly  brown  hair  that  strayed  over  her 
ear,  she  sat  pushing  her  pencil  rapidly  across  the 
pages  of  her  note-book.  At  times  she  stopped  to 
tap  impatiently  on  the  table,  when  the  word  she 
wanted  failed  to  come.  Then  she  would  sit  looking 
through  half-closed  eyes  at  the  sun-dial,  or  let  her 
dreamy  gaze  follow  the  lazy  windings  of  the  river, 
which,  far  below,  took  its  slow  way  along  between 
the  willows. 

As  editor-in-chief  of  The  Spinster,  there  was 
good  reason  why  she  should  be  excused  from  reci- 
tations now  and  then,  to  spend  an  afternoon  in  this 
retreat.  This  year's  souvenir  volume  bade  fair  to 
be  the  brightest  and  most  creditable  one  ever  issued 
by  the  school.  The  English  professor  not  only 
openly  said  so,  but  was  plainly  so  proud  of  Betty's 
ability  that  the  lower  classes  regarded  her  with  awe, 
and  adored  her  from  a  distance,  as  a  real  live 
genius. 


AT  WARWICK  HALL  3 

Whether  she  was  a  genius  or  not,  one  thing-  is 
certain,  she  spent  hours  of  patient,  painstaking 
work  to  make  her  writing  measure  up  to  the  stand- 
ard she  had  set  for  it.  It  was  work  that  she  loved 
better  than  play,  however,  and  to-day  she  sighed 
regretfully  when  the  hunter's  horn,  blowing  on  the 
upper  terrace,  summoned  the  school  to  its  outdoor 
sports. 

Instantly,  in  answer  to  the  winding  call,  the 
whole  place  began  to  awaken.  There  was  a  tread 
of  many  feet  on  the  great  staircase,  the  outer  doors 
burst  open,  and  a  stream  of  rollicking  girls  poured 
out  into  the  May  sunshine. 

Betty  knew  that  in  a  few  minutes  the  garden 
would  be  swarming  with  them  as  if  a  flock  of  chat- 
tering magpies  had  taken  possession  of  it.  With 
a  preoccupied  frown  drawing  her  eyebrows  to- 
gether, she  began  gathering  up  her  papers,  prepara- 
tory to  making  her  escape.  She  glanced  down  the 
long  flight  of  marble  steps  leading  to  the  river. 
There  on  the  lowest  terrace,  a  fringe  of  willow- 
trees  trailed  their  sweeping  branches  in  the  water. 
Around  the  largest  of  these  trees  ran  a  circular 
bench.  Seated  on  the  far  side  of  this,  the  huge 
trunk  would  shield  her  from  view  of  the  Hall,  and 
she  decided  to  go  down  there  to  finish. 


4    THE  LITTLE  COLONEL:  MAID  OF  HONOR 

It  would  never  do  to  stop  now,  when  the  verses 
were  spinning  themselves  out  so  easily.  None  of 
the  girls,  except  her  four  most  intimate  friends, 
would  dare  think  of  following  her  down  there,  and 
if  she  could  slip  away  from  that  audacious  quar- 
tette, she  would  be  safe  for  the  rest  of  the  after- 
noon. 

Peering  through  a  hole  in  the  hedge,  she  stood 
waiting  for  them  to  pass.  A  section  of  the  botany 
class  came  first,  swinging  their  baskets,  and  bound 
for  a  wooded  hillside  where  wild  flowers  grew  in 
profusion.  A  group  on  their  way  to  the  golf  links 
came  next,  then  half  a  dozen  tennis  players, 
and  the  newly  organized  basket-ball  team.  A  mo- 
ment more,  and  the  four  she  was  waiting  for 
tramped  out  abreast,  arm  in  arm :  Lloyd  Sherman, 
Gay  Melville,  Allison  and  Kitty  Walton.  Gay  car- 
ried a  kodak,  and,  from  the  remarks  which  floated 
over  the  hedge,  it  was  evident  they  were  on  their 
way  to  the  orchard,  to  take  a  picture  which  would 
illustrate  the  nonsense  rhyme  Kitty  was  chanting 
at  the  top  of  her  voice.  They  all  repeated  it  after 
her  in  a  singsong  chorus,  the  four  pairs  of  feet 
keeping  time  in  a  soldierly  tread  as  they  marched 
past  the  garden : 


AT  WARWICK  HALL  $ 

"  Diddledy  diddledy  dumpty ! 
Three  old  maids  in  a  plum-tree ! 
Half  a  crown  to  get  them  down, 
Diddledy  diddledy  dumpty  !  " 

Only  in  this  instance  Betty  knew  they  were  to 
be  young  maids  instead  of  old  ones,  all  in  a  row 
on  the  limb  of  a  plum-tree  in  the  orchard,  their 
laughing  faces  thrust  through  the  mass  of  snowy 
blossoms,  as  they  waited  to  be  photographed. 

"  Diddledy  diddledy  dumpty  "  —  the  ridiculous 
refrain  grew  fainter  and  died  away  as  the  girls 
passed  on  to  the  orchard,  and  Betty,  smiling  in 
sympathy  with  their  high  spirits,  ran  down  the 
stately  marble  steps  to  the  seat  under  the  willow. 
It  was  so  cool  and  shadowy  down  there  that  at 
first  it  was  a  temptation  just  to  sit  and  listen  to 
the  lap  of  the  water  against  the  shore,  but  the  very 
length  of  the  shadows  warned  her  that  the  after- 
noon was  passing,  and  after  a  few  moments  she 
fell  to  work  again  with  conscientious  energy. 

So  deeply  did  she  become  absorbed  in  her  task, 
she  did  not  look  up  when  some  one  came  down  the 
steps  behind  her.  It  was  an  adoring  little  fresh- 
man, who  had  caught  the  glimmer  of  her  pink 
dress  behind  the  tree.  The  special-delivery  letter 
she  carried  was  her  excuse  for  following.  She 


6    THE  LITTLE  COLONEL:  MAID  OF  HONOR 

had  been  in  a  nutter  of  delight  when  Madame 
Chartley  put  it  in  her  hand,  asking  her  to  find 
Elizabeth  Lewis  and  give  it  to  her.  But  now  that 
she  stood  in  the  charmed  presence,  actually  watch- 
ing a  poem  in  the  process  of  construction,  she 
paused,  overwhelmed  by  the  feeling  that  she  was 
rushing  in  "  where  angels  feared  to  tread." 

Still,  special-delivery  letters  are  important  things. 
Like  time  and  tide  they  wait  for  no  man.  Some- 
body might  be  dead  or  dying.  So  summoning  all 
her  courage,  she  cleared  her  throat.  Then  she 
gave  a  bashful  little  cough.  Betty  looked  up  with 
an  absent-minded  stare.  She  had  been  so  busy 
polishing  a  figure  of  speech  to  her  satisfaction  that 
she  had  forgotten  where  she  was.  For  an  instant 
the  preoccupied  little  pucker  between  her  eyebrows 
smote  the  timid  freshman  with  dismay.  She  felt 
that  she  had  gained  her  idol's  everlasting  displeas- 
ure by  intruding  at  such  a  time.  But  the  next 
instant  Betty's  face  cleared,  and  the  brown  eyes 
smiled  in  the  way  that  always  made  her  friends 
wherever  she  went. 

"What  is  it,  Dora?"  she  asked,  kindly.  Dora, 
who  could  only  stammer  an  embarrassed  reply, 
held  out  the  letter.  Then  she  stood  with  toes 


AT  WARWICK  HALL  / 

turned  in,  and  both  hands  fumbling  nervously  with 
her  belt  ribbon,  while  Betty  broke  the  seal. 

"I  —  I  hope  it  isn't  bad  news,"  she  managed  to 
say  at  last.  "I  —  I'd  hate  to  bring  you  bad  news." 

Betty  looked  up  with  a  smile  which  brought 
Dora's  heart  into  her  throat.  "  Thank  you,  dear," 
she  answered,  cordially.  Then,  as  her  eye  trav- 
elled farther  down  the  page,  she  gave  a  cry  of 
pleasure. 

"  Oh,  it  is  perfectly  lovely  news,  Dora.  It's  the 
most  beautiful  surprise  for  Lloyd's  birthday  that 
ever  was.  She's  not  to  know  till  to-morrow.  It's 
too  good  a  secret  to  keep  to  myself,  so  I'll  share 
it  with  you  in  a  minute  if  you'll  swear  not  to  tell 
till  to-morrow." 

Scarcely  believing  that  she  heard  aright,  Dora 
dropped  down  on  the  grass,  regardless  of  the  fact 
that  her  roommate  and  two  other  girls  were  wait- 
ing on  the  upper  terrace  for  her  to  join  them. 
They  were  going  to  Mammy  Easter's  cabin  to  have 
their  fortunes  told.  Feeling  that  this  was  the  best 
fortune  that  had  befallen  her  since  her  arrival  at 
Warwick  Hall,  and  sure  that  Mammy  Easter  could 
foretell  no  greater  honor  than  she  was  already 
enjoying,  she  signalled  wildly  for  them  to  go  on 
without  her. 


8         THE  LITTLE   COLONEL :  MAID   OF  HONOR 

At  first  they  did  not  understand  her  frantic  ges- 
tures for  them  to  go  on,  and  stood  beckoning,  till 
she  turned  her  back  on  them.  Then  they  moved 
away  reluctantly  and  in  great  disgust  at  her  aban- 
doning them.  When  a  glance  over  her  shoulder 
assured  her  that  she  was  rid  of  them,  she  settled 
down  with  a  blissful  sigh.  What  greater  honor 
could  she  have  than  to  be  chosen  as  the  confidante 
of  the  most  brilliant  pupil  ever  enrolled  at  War- 
wick Hall?  At  least  it  was  reported  that  that  was 
the  faculty's  opinion  of  her.  Dora's  roommate, 
Cornie  Dean,  had  chosen  Lloyd  Sherman  as  the 
shrine  of  her  young  affections,  and  it  was  from 
Cornie  that  Dora  had  learned  the  personal  history 
of  her  literary  idol.  She  knew  that  Lloyd  Sher- 
man's mother  was  Betty's  godmother,  and  that  the 
two  girls  lived  together  as  sisters  in  a  beautiful 
old  home  in  Kentucky  called  "  The  Locusts."  She 
had  seen  the  photograph  of  the  place  hanging  in 
Betty's  room,  and  had  heard  scraps  of  information 
about  the  various  house-parties  that  had  frolicked 
under  the  hospitable  rooftree  of  the  fine  old  man- 
sion. She  knew  that  they  had  travelled  abroad, 
and  had  had  all  sorts  of  delightful  and  unusual 
experiences.  Now  something  else  fine  and  unusual 
was  about  to  happen,  and  Betty  had  offered  to  share 


AT  WARWICK  HALL  9 

a  secret  with  her.  A  little  shiver  of  pleasure  passed 
over  her  at  the  thought.  This  was  so  delightfully 
intimate  and  confidential,  almost  like  taking  one 
of  those  "  little  journeys  to  the  homes  of  famous 
people." 

As  Betty  turned  the  page,  Dora  felt  with  an- 
other thrill  that  that  was  the  hand  which  had  writ- 
ten the  poem  on  "  Friendship,"  which  all  the  girls 
had  raved  over.  She  herself  knew  it  by  heart,  and 
she  knew  of  at  least  six  copies  which,  cut  from  the 
school  magazine  in  which  it  had  been  published, 
were  stuck  in  the  frames  of  as  many  mirrors. 

And  that  was  the  hand  that  had  written  the 
junior  class  song  and  the  play  that  the  juniors 
gave  on  Valentine  night.  If  reports  were  true  that 
was  also  the  hand  which  would  write  the  valedic- 
tory next  year,  and  which  was  now  secretly  at 
work  upon  a  book  which  would  some  day  place 
its  owner  in  the  ranks  with  George  Eliot  and 
Thackeray. 

While  she  still  gazed  in  a  sort  of  fascination  at 
the  daintily  manicured  pink-tipped  fingers,  Betty 
looked  up  with  a  radiant  face.  "  Now  I'll  read  it 
aloud,"  she  said.  "  It  will  take  several  readings  to 
make  me  realize  that  such  a  lovely  time  is  actually 


IO      THE  LITTLE    COLONEL:    MAID    OF  HONOR 

in  store  for  us.     It's  from  godmother,"   she  ex- 
plained. 

"  DEAR  ELIZABETH  :  —  As  I  cannot  be  sure  just 
when  this  will  reach  Warwick  Hall,  I  am  sending 
the  enclosed  letter  to  Lloyd  in  your  care.  A  little 
package  for  her  birthday  has  already  gone  on  to 
her  by  express,  but  as  this  bit  of  news  will  give 
her  more  pleasure  than  any  gift,  I  want  her  to 
receive  it  also  on  her  birthday.  I  have  just  com- 
pleted arrangements  for  a  second  house-party,  a 
duplicate  of  the  one  she  had  six  years  ago,  when 
she  was  eleven.  I  have  bidden  to  it  the  same  guests 
which  came  to  the  first  one,  you  and  Eugenia 
Forbes  and  Joyce  Ware,  but  Eugenia  will  come  as 
a  bride  this  time.  I  have  persuaded  her  to  have 
her  wedding  here  at  Locust,  among  her  only  kin- 
dred, instead  of  in  New  York,  where  she  and  her 
father  have  no  home  ties.  It  will  be  a  rose  wed- 
ding, the  last  of  June.  The  bridegroom's  brother, 
Phil  Tremont,  is  to  be  best  man,  and  Lloyd  maid 
of  'honor.  Stuart's  best  friend,  a  young  doctor  from 
Boston,  is  to  be  one  of  the  attendants,  and  Rob 
another.  You  and  Joyce  are  to  be  bridesmaids, 
just  as  you  would  have  been  had  the  wedding  been 
in  New  York. 


AT    WARWICK  HALL  II 

"  Eugenia  writes  that  she  bought  the  material 
in  Paris  for  your  gowns.  I  enclose  a  sample,  pale 
pink  chiffon.  Like  a  rose-leaf,  is  it  not?  Dressed 
in  this  dainty  color,  you  will  certainly  carry  out 
my  idea  of  a  rose  wedding.  Now  do  not  let  the 
thoughts  of  all  this  gaiety  interfere  with  your 
studies.  That  is  all  I  can  tell  you  now,  but  you 
may  spend  your  spare  time  until  school  is  out  plan- 
ning things  to  make  this  the  happiest  of  house- 
parties,  and  we  will  try  to  carry  out  all  the  plans 
that  are  practicable.  Your  devoted  godmother, 
"  ELIZABETH  SHERMAN." 

Betty  spread  the  sample  of  chiffon  out  over  her 
knee,  and  stroked  it  admiringly,  before  she  slipped 
it  back  into  the  envelope  with  the  letter.  "  The 
Princess  is  going  to  be  so  happy  over  this,"  she 
exclaimed.  "  I'm  sure  she'll  enjoy  this  second 
house-party  at  seventeen  a  hundred  times  more 
than  she  did  the  first  one  at  eleven,  and  yet  nobody 
could  have  had  more  fun  than  we  did  at  that  time." 

Dora's  eager  little  face  was  eloquent  with  inter- 
est. Betty  could  not  have  chosen  a  more  attentive 
listener,  and,  inspired  by  her  flattering  attention, 
she  went  on  to  recall  some  of  the  good  times  they 
had  had  at  Locust,  and  in  answer  to  Dora's  timid 


12   THE  LITTLE  COLONEL:  MAID  OF  HONOR 

questions  explained  why  Lloyd  was  called  The 
Little  Colonel  and  the  Princess  Winsome  and  the 
Queen  of  Hearts  and  Hildegarde,  and  all  the  other 
titles  her  different  friends  had  showered  upon  her. 

"  She  must  have  been  born  with  a  gold  spoon 
in  her  mouth,  to  be  so  lucky,"  sighed  Dora,  pres- 
ently. "Life  has  been  all  roses  for  her,  and  no 
thorns  whatever." 

"  No,  indeed !  "  answered  Betty,  quickly.  "  She 
had  a  dreadful  disappointment  last  year.  She  was 
taken  sick  during  the  Christmas  vacation,  and  had 
to  stay  out  of  school  all  last  term.  It  nearly  broke 
her  heart  to  drop  behind  her  class,  and  she  still 
grieves  over  it  every  day.  The  doctors  forbade 
her  taking  extra  work  to  catch  up  with  it.  Then 
so  much  is  expected  of  an  only  child  like  her,  who 
has  had  so  many  advantages,  and  it  is  no  easy  mat- 
ter living  up  to  all  the  expectations  of  a  family  like 
the  old  Colonel's." 

Betty's  back  was  turned  to  the  terraces,  but  Dora, 
who  faced  them,  happened  to  look  up  just  then. 
"There  she  comes  now,"  she  cried  in  alarm. 
"  Hide  the  letter !  Quick,  or  she'll  see  you !  " 

Glancing  over  her  shoulder,  Betty  saw,  not  only 
the  four  girls  she  had  run  away  from,  but  four 
others,  running  down  the  terraces,  taking  the  flight 


AT  WARWICK  HALL  13 

of  marble  steps  two  at  a  time.  Gay's  shoe-strings 
were  tripping  her  at  every  leap,  and  Lloyd's  hair 
had  shaken  down  around  her  shoulders  in  a  shining 
mass  in  the  wild  race  from  the  orchard. 

Lloyd  reached  the  willow  first.  Dropping  down 
on  the  bench,  almost  breathless,  she  began  fanning 
herself  with  her  hat 

"Oh!"  she  gasped.  "Tell  me  quick,  Betty! 
What  is  the  mattah?  Cornie  Dean  said  a  messen- 
ger boy  had  just  come  out  to  the  Hall  on  a  bicycle 
with  a  special-delivery  lettah  from  home.  I  was 
so  suah  something  awful  had  happened  I  could 
hardly  run,  it  frightened  me  so." 

"  And  we  thought  maybe  something  had  hap- 
pened at  '  The  Beeches/ "  interrupted  Allison, 
"  and  that  mamma  had  written  to  you  to  break  the 
news  to  us." 

"  Why,  nothing  at  all  is  the  matter,"  answered 
Betty,  calmly,  darting  a  quick  look  at  Dora  to  see 
if  her  face  was  betraying  anything.  "  It  was  just 
a  little  note  from  godmother.  She  wanted  me  to 
attend  to  something  for  her." 

"  But  why  should  she  send  it  by  special  delivery  if 
it  isn't  impawtant?"  asked  Lloyd,  in  an  aggrieved 
tone. 

"  It  is  important,"  laughed  Betty.     "  Very." 


14      THE  LITTLE   COLONEL:   MAID   OF  HONOR 

"For  goodness'  sake,  what  is  it,  then?"  de- 
manded Lloyd.  "  Don't  tease  me  by  keeping  me  in 
suspense,  Betty.  You  know  that  anything  about 
mothah  or  The  Locusts  must  concern  me,  too,  and 
that  I  am  just  as  much  interested  in  the  special  let- 
tah  as  you  are.  I  should  think  it  would  be  just  as 
much  my  business  as  yoah's." 

"  This  does  concern  you,"  admitted  Betty,  "  and 
I'm  dying  to  tell  you,  but  godmother  doesn't  want 
you  to  know  until  to-morrow." 

"  To-morrow,"  echoed  Lloyd,  much  puzzled. 
Then  her  face  lighted  up.  "  Oh,  it's  about  my 
birthday  present.  Tell  me  what  it  is  now,  Betty," 
she  wheedled.  "  I'd  lots  rathah  know  now  than  to 
wait  I  could  be  enjoying  the  prospect  of  having 
whatevah  it  is  all  the  rest  of  the  day." 

Betty  clapped  her  hands  over  her  mouth,  and 
rocked  back  and  forth  on  the  bench,  her  eyes  shin- 
ing mischievously. 

"Do  go  away,"  she  begged.  "  Don't  ask  me! 
It's  so  lovely  that  I  can  hardly  keep  from  telling 
you,  and  I'm  afraid  if  you  stay  here  I'll  not  have 
strength  of  character  to  resist." 

"  Tell  us,  Betty,"  suggested  Kitty.  "  Lloyd  will 
hide  her  ears  while  you  confide  in  us." 

"  No,  indeed !  "  laughed  Betty.    "  The  cat  is  half 


AT  WARWICK  HALL  15 

out  of  the  bag  when  a  secret  is  once  shared,  and  I 
know  you  couldn't  keep  from  telling  Lloyd  more 
than  an  hour  or  two." 

Just  then  Lloyd,  leaning  forward,  pounced  upon 
something  at  Betty's  feet.  It  was  the  sample  of 
pink  chiffon  that  had  dropped  from  the  envelope. 

"  Sherlock  Holmes  the  second!  "  she  cried.  "  I've 
discovahed  the  secret.  It  has  something  to  do  with 
Eugenia's  rose  wedding,  and  mothah  is  going  to 
give  me  my  bridesmaid's  dress  as  a  birthday  pres- 
ent. Own  up  now,  Betty.  Isn't  that  it?" 

Betty  darted  a  startled  look  at  Dora.  "Well," 
she  admitted,  cautiously,  "  if  it  were  a  game  of 
hunt  the  slipper,  I'd  say  you  were  getting  rather 
warm.  That  is  not  the  present  your  mother  men- 
tioned, although  it  is  a  sample  of  the  bridesmaids' 
dresses.  Eugenia  got  the  material  in  Paris  for  all 
of  them.  I'm  at  liberty  to  tell  you  that  much." 

"  Is  that  the  wedding  where  you  are  to  be  maid 
of  honor,  Princess  ?  "  asked  Grace  Campman,  one  of 
the  girls  who  had  been  posing  in  the  plum-tree,  and 
who  had  followed  her  down  to  hear  the  news. 

"  Yes,"  answered  Lloyd.  "  Is  it  any  wondah 
that  I'm  neahly  wild  with  curiosity?" 

"  Make  her  tell,"  urged  an  excited  chorus.  "  Just 
half  a  day  beforehand  won't  make  any  difference." 


1 6      THE  LITTLE   COLONEL:   MAID    OF  HONOR 

"  Let's  all  begin  and  beg  her,"  suggested  Grace. 

Lloyd,  long  used  to  gaining  her  own  way  with 
Betty  by  a  system  of  affectionate  coaxing  hard  to 
resist,  turned  impulsively  to  begin  the  siege  to  wrest 
the  secret  from  her,  but  another  reference  to  the 
maid  of  honor  by  Grace  made  her  pause.  Then  she 
said  suddenly,  with  the  well-known  princess-like 
lifting  of  the  head  that  they  all  admired : 

"  No,  don't  tell  me,  Betty.  A  maid  of  honah 
should  be  too  honahable  to  insist  on  finding  out 
things  that  were  not  intended  for  her  to  know.  I 
hadn't  thought.  If  mothah  took  all  the  trouble  of 
sending  a  special-delivery  lettah  to  you  to  keep  me 
from  knowing  till  my  birthday,  I'm  not  going  to 
pry  around  trying  to  find  out." 

"  Well,  if  you  aren't  the  queerest"  began  Grace. 
"  One  would  think  to  hear  you  talk  that  '  maid  of 
honor '  was  some  great  title  to  be  lived  up  to  like 
the  *  Maid  of  Orleans,'  and  that  only  some  high 
and  mighty  creature  like  Joan  of  Arc  could  do  it. 
But  it's  nothing  more  than  to  go  first  in  the  wed- 
ding march,  and  hold  the  bride's  bouquet.  I 
shouldn't  think  you'd  let  a  little  thing  like  that 
stand  in  the  way  of  your  finding  out  what  you're 
so  crazy  to  know." 

"  Wouldn't  you  ?  "  asked  Lloyd,  with  a  slight 


AT  WARWICK  HALL  I? 

shrug,  and  in  a  tone  which  Dora  described  after- 
ward to  Cornie  as  simply  withering. 

"  '  Well,  that's  the  difference,  as  you  see, 
Betwixt  my  lord  the  king  and  me  / ' " 

To  Grace's  wonder,  she  dropped  the  sample  of 
pink  chiffon  in  Betty's  lap,  as  if  it  had  lost  all 
interest  for  her,  and  stood  up. 

"  Come  on,  girls,"  she  exclaimed.  "  Let's  take 
the  rest  of  those  pictuahs.  There  are  two  moah 
films  left  in  the  roll." 

"  I  might  as.  well  go  with  you,"  said  Betty, 
gathering  up  the  loose  leaves  that  had  fallen  from 
her  note-book.  "  It's  no  use  trying  to  write  with 
my  head  so  full  of  the  grand  secret.  I  couldn't 
possibly  think  of  anything  else." 

Arm  in  arm  with  Allison,  she  sauntered  up  the 
steps  behind  the  others  to  the  old  garden,  which 
was  the  pride  of  every  pupil  in  Warwick  Hall.  The 
hollyhocks  from  Ann  Hathaway's  cottage  had  not 
yet  begun  to  flaunt  their  rosettes  of  color,  but  the 
rhododendrons  from  Killarney  were  in  gorgeous 
bloom.  As  Lloyd  focussed  the  camera  in  such  a 
way  as  to  make  them  a  background  for  a  picture 
of  the  sun-dial,  Betty  heard  Kitty  ask :  "  You'll  let 
us  know  early  in  the  morning  what  your  present 
is,  won't  you,  Princess  ?  " 


1 8   THE  LITTLE  COLONEL:  MAID  OF  HONOR 

"  Yes,  I'll  run  into  yoah  room  with  it  early  in 
the  mawning,  just  as  soon  as  I  lay  eyes  on  it  my- 
self," promised  Lloyd,  solemnly. 

"  She  can't !  "  whispered  Betty  to  Allison,  with  a 
giggle.  "  In  the  first  place,  it's  something  that  can't 
be  carried,  and  in  the  second  place  it  will  take  a 
month  for  her  to  see  all  of  it  herself." 

Allison  stopped  short  in  the  path,  her  face  a  pic- 
ture of  bafHed  curiosity.  "  Betty  Lewis,"  she  said, 
solemnly,  "  I  could  find  it  in  my  heart  to  choke  you. 
Don't  tempt  me  too  far,  or  I'll  do  it  with  a  good 
grace." 

Betty  laughed  and  pushed  aside  the  vines  at  the 
entrance  to  the  arbor.  "  Come  in  here,"  she  said, 
in  a  low  tone.  "  I've  intended  all  along  to  tell  you 
as  soon  as  we  got  away  from  Grace  Campman  and 
those  freshmen,  for  it  concerns  you  and  Kitty,  too. 
You  missed  the  first  house-party  we  had  at  The 
Locusts,  but  you'll  have  a  big  share  in  the  second 
one.  For  a  June  house-party  with  a  wedding  in 
it  is  the  '  surprise '  godmother  has  written  about 
in  Lloyd's  birthday  letter." 


CHAPTER   II. 
AT  WARE'S  WIGWAM 

IN  order  that  Lloyd's  invitation  to  her  own 
house-party  might  reach  her  on  her  birthday,  it 
had  not  been  mailed  until  several  days  after  the 
others.  So  it  happened  that  the  same  morning  on 
which  she  slipped  across  the  hall  in  her  kimono, 
to  share  her  first  rapturous  delight  with  Kitty, 
Joyce  Ware's  letter  reached  the  end  of  its  journey. 

The  postman  on  the  first  rural  delivery  route 
out  of  Phoenix  jogged  along  in  his  cart  toward 
Ware's  Wigwam.  He  had  left  the  highway  and 
was  following  the  wheel-tracks  which  led  across 
the  desert  to  Camelback  Mountain.  The  horse 
dropped  into  a  plodding  walk  as  the  wheels  began 
pulling  heavily  through  the  sand,  and  the  postman 
yawned.  This  stretch  of  road  through  the  cactus 
and  sage-brush  was  the  worst  part  of  his  daily 
trip.  He  rarely  passed  anything  more  interesting 
than  a  jack-rabbit,  but  this  morning  he  spied  some- 
thing ahead  that  aroused  his  curiosity. 
'9 


2O      THE  LITTLE  COLONEL:    MAID    OF  HONOR 

At  first  it  seemed  only  a  flash  of  something  pink 
beating  the  air;  but,  as  he  jogged  nearer,  he  saw 
that  the  flash  of  pink  was  a  short-skirted  gingham 
dress.  A  high-peaked  Mexican  hat  hid  the  face 
of  the  wearer,  but  it  needed  no  second  glance  to  tell 
him  who  she  was.  Every  line  of  the  sturdy  little 
figure,  from  the  uplifted  arms  brandishing  a  club 
to  the  dusty  shoes  planted  widely  apart  to  hold  her 
balance,  proclaimed  that  it  was  Mary  Ware.  As 
the  blows  fell  with  relentless  energy,  the  postman 
chuckled. 

"  Must  be  killing  a  snake,"  he  thought.  "  What- 
ever it  is,  it  will  be  flatter  than  a  pancake  when  she 
gets  through  with  it." 

Somehow  he  always  felt  like  chuckling  when  he 
met  Mary  Ware.  Whatever  she  happened  to  be 
doing  was  done  with  a  zeal  and  a  vim  that  made 
this  fourteen-year-old  girl  a  never-failing  source 
of  amusement  to  the  easy-going  postman.  Now  as 
he  came  within  speaking  distance,  he  saw  a  surrey 
drawn  up  to  the  side  of  the  road,  and  recognized 
the  horse  as  old  Bogus  from  Lee's  ranch. 

A  thin,  tall  woman,  swathed  in  a  blue  veil,  sat 
stiffly  on  the  back  seat,  reaching  forward  to  hold 
the  reins  in  a  grasp  that  showed  both  fear  and  un- 
familiarity  in  the  handling  of  horses.  She  was  a 


IT  NEEDED  NO  SECOND  GLANCE  TO  TELL  HIM  WHO  SHE  WAS  " 


AT   WARE'S    WIGWAM  2,1 

new  boarder  at  Lee's  ranch.  Evidently  they  had 
been  out  on  some  errand  for  Mrs.  Lee,  and  were 
returning  from  one  of  the  neighboring  orange- 
groves,  for  the  back  of  the  surrey  was  filled  with 
oranges  and  grapefruit. 

The  postman's  glance  turned  from  the  surrey  to 
the  object  in  the  road  with  an  exclamation  of  sur- 
prise. One  of  the  largest  rattlesnakes  he  had  ever 
seen  lay  stretched  out  there,  and  Mary,  having 
dropped  her  club,  was  proceeding  to  drag  it  toward 
the  surrey  by  a  short  lasso  made  of  a  piece  of  the 
hitching-rope.  The  postman  stood  up  in  his  cart 
to  look  at  it. 

"  Better  be  sure  it's  plumb  dead  before  you  give 
it  a  seat  in  your  carriage,"  he  advised. 

Mary  gave  a  glance  of  disgust  toward  the  blue- 
veiled  figure  in  the  surrey. 

"  Oh,  it's  dead"  she  said,  witheringly.  "  Mr. 
Craydock  shot  its  head  off  to  begin  with,  over  at 
the  orange-grove  this  morning,  and  I've  killed  it 
four  different  times  on  our  way  home.  He  gave 
it  to  me  to  take  to  Norman  for  his  collection.  But 
Miss  Scudder  is  so  scared  of  it  that  she  makes  me 
get  out  every  half-mile  to  pound  a  few  more  inches 
off  its  neck.  It  was  a  perfect  beauty  when  we 
started,  —  five  feet  long  and  twelve  rattles.  I'm 


22      THE  LITTLE   COLONEL :    MAID   OF  HONOR 

so  afraid  I'll  break  off  some  of  the  rattles  that  I'll 
be  mighty  glad  when  I  get  it  safely  home." 

"  So  will  I !  "  ejaculated  Miss  Scudder,  so  fer- 
vently that  the  postman  laughed  as  he  drove 
on. 

"  Any  mail  for  us  ?  "  Mary  called  after  him. 

"  Only  some  papers  and  a  letter  for  your  sister," 
he  answered  over  his  shoulder. 

"  Now  why  didn't  I  ask  him  to  take  me  and  the 
snake  on  home  in  the  cart  with  him?"  exclaimed 
Mary,  as  she  lifted  the  rattler  into  the  surrey  by 
means  of  the  lasso,  and  took  the  reins  from  the 
new  boarder's  uneasy  hands.  "  Even  if  you  can't 
drive,  Bogus  could  take  you  to  the  ranch  all  right 
by  himself.  Lots  of  times  when  Hazel  Lee  and  I 
are  out  driving,  we  wrap  the  reins  around  the  whip- 
holder  and  let  him  pick  his  own  way.  Now  I'll 
have  to  drag  this  snake  all  the  way  from  the  ranch 
to  the  Wigwam,  and  it  will  be  a  dreadful  holdback 
when  I'm  in  such  a  hurry  to  get  there  and  see  who 
Joyce's  letter  is  from. 

"  You  see,"  she  continued,  clucking  cheerfully  to 
Bogus,  "  the  postman's  mail-pouch  is  almost  as 
interesting  as  a  grab-bag,  since  my  two  brothers 
went  away.  Holland  is  in  the  navy,"  she  added, 
proudly,  "  and  my  oldest  brother,  Jack,  has  a  posi- 


AT  WARE'S   WIGWAM  2$ 

tion  in  the  mines  up  where  mamma  and  Norman 
and  I  are  going  to  spend  the  summer." 

Three  years  in  the  desert  had  not  made  Mary 
Ware  any  the  less  talkative.  At  fourteen  she  was 
as  much  of  a  chatterbox  as  ever,  but  so  diverting, 
with  her  fund  of  unexpected  information  and  fam- 
ily history  and  her  cheerful  outlook  on  life,  that 
Mrs.  Lee  often  sent  for  her  to  amuse  some  invalid 
boarder,  to  the  mutual  pleasure  of  the  small  philoso- 
pher and  her  audience. 

The  experiment  this  morning  had  proved  any- 
thing but  a  pleasure  drive  for  either  of  them,  how- 
ever. Timid  Miss  Scudder,  afraid  of  horses,  afraid 
of  the  lonely  desert,  and  with  a  deathly  horror  of 
snakes,  gave  a  sigh  of  relief  when  they  came  in 
sight  of  the  white  tents  clustered  around  the  brown 
adobe  ranch  house  on  the  edge  of  the  irrigating 
canal.  But  with  the  end  of  her  journey  in  sight, 
she  relaxed  her  strained  muscles  and  nerves  some- 
what, and  listened  with  interest  to  what  Mary  was 
saying. 

"  This  year  has  brought  three  of  us  our  heart's 
desires,  anyhow.  Holland  has  been  wild  to  get  into 
the  navy  ever  since  he  was  big  enough  to  know  that 
there  is  one.  Jack  has  been  looking  forward  to 
this  position  in  the  mines  ever  since  we  came  out 


24      THE  LITTLE    COLONEL:   MAID    OF  HONOR 

West.  It  will  be  the  making  of  him,  everybody 
says.  And  Joyce's  one  dream  in  life  has  been  to 
save  enough  money  to  go  East  to  take  lessons  in 
designing.  Her  bees  have  done  splendidly,  but  I 
don't  believe  she  could  have  quite  managed  it  if 
Eugenia  Forbes  hadn't  invited  her  to  be  one  of 
the  bridesmaids  at  her  wedding,  and  promised  to 
send  her  a  pass  to  New  York." 

She  broke  off  abruptly  as  Bogus  came  to  a  stop 
in  front  of  the  tents,  and,  standing  up,  she  pro- 
ceeded to  dangle  the  snake  carefully  over  the  wheel, 
till  it  was  lowered  in  safety  to  the  ground.  Ordi- 
narily she  would  have  lingered  at  the  ranch  until 
the  occupant  of  every  tent  had  strolled  out  to  ad- 
mire her  trophy,  and  afterward  might  have  accepted 
Hazel  Lee's  invitation  to  stay  to  dinner.  It  was  a 
common  occurrence  for  them  to  spend  their  Sat- 
urdays together.  But  to-day  not  even  the  promise 
of  strawberry  shortcake  and  a  ride  home  afterward, 
when  it  was  cooler,  could  tempt  her  to  stay. 

The  yellow  road  stretched  hot  and  glaring  across 
the  treeless  desert.  The  snake  was  too  heavy  to 
carry  on  a  pole  over  her  shoulder.  She  would  have 
to  drag  it  through  the  sun  and  sand  if  she  went 
now.  But  her  curiosity  was  too  strong  to  allow 
her  to  wait.  She  must  find  out  what  was  in  that 


AT  WARE'S   WIGWAM  2$ 

letter  to  Joyce.  If  it  were  from  Jack,  there  would 
be  something  in  it  about  their  plans  for  the  sum- 
mer; maybe  a  kodak  picture  of  the  shack  in  the 
pine  woods  near  the  mines,  where  they  were  to 
board.  If  it  were  from  Holland,  there  would  be 
another  interesting  chapter  of  his  experiences  on 
board  the  training-ship. 

Once  as  she  trudged  along  the  road,  it  occurred 
to  her  that  the  letter  might  be  from  her  cousin 
Kate,  the  "  witch  with  a  wand,"  who  had  so  often 
played  fairy  godmother  to  the  family.  She  might 
be  writing  to  say  that  she  had  sent  another  box. 
Straightway  Mary's  active  imagination  fell  to  pic- 
turing its  contents  so  blissfully  that  she  forgot  the 
heat  of  the  sun-baked  road  over  which  she  was 
going.  Her  face  was  beaded  with  perspiration  and 
her  eyes  squinted  nearly  shut  under  the  broad  brim 
of  the  Mexican  sombrero,  but,  revelling  in  the  pic- 
ture her  mind  called  up  of  cool  white  dresses  and 
dainty  thin-soled  slippers,  she  walked  faster  and 
faster,  oblivious  to  the  heat  and  the  glaring  light. 
Her  sunburned  cheeks  were  flaming  red  when  she 
finally  reached  the  Wigwam,  and  the  locks  of  hair 
straggling  down  her  forehead  hung  in  limp  wet 
strings. 

Lifting   the   snake   carefully    across    the   bridge 


26      THE  LITTLE   COLONEL  :   MAID   OF  HONOR 

which  spanned  the  irrigating  canal,  she  trailed  it 
into  the  yard  and  toward  the  umbrella-tree  which 
shaded  the  rustic  front  porch.  Under  this  shelter- 
ing umbrella-tree,  which  spread  its  dense  arch  like 
a  roof,  sat  Joyce  and  her  mother.  The  heap  of 
muslin  goods  piled  up  around  them  showed  that 
they  had  spent  a  busy  morning  sewing.  But  they 
were  idle  now.  One  glance  showed  Mary  that 
the  letter,  whosever  it  was,  had  brought  unusual 
news.  Joyce  sat  on  the  door-step  with  it  in  her  lap 
and  her  hands  clasped  over  her  knees.  Mrs.  Ware, 
leaning  back  in  her  sewing-chair,  was  opening  and 
shutting  a  pair  of  scissors  in  an  absent-minded  man- 
ner, as  if  her  thoughts  were  a  thousand  miles 
away. 

"  Well,  it's  good  news,  anyway,"  was  Mary's 
first  thought,  as  she  glanced  at  her  sister's  radiant 
face.  "  She  wouldn't  look  so  pretty  if  It  wasn't. 
It's  a  pity  she  can't  be  hearing  good  news  all  the 
time.  When  her  eyes  shine  like  that,  she's  almost 
beautiful.  Now  me,  all  the  good  news  in  the  world 
wouldn't  make  me  look  beautiful,  freckled  and  fat 
and  sunburned  as  I  am,  and  my  hair  so  fine  and 
thin  and  straight  — •  " 

She  paused  in  her  musings  to  look  up  each  sleeve 
for  her  handkerchief,  and  not  finding  it  in  either, 


AT  WARE'S    WIGWAM  2? 

caught  up  the  hem  of  her  short  pink  skirt  to  wipe 
her  perspiring  face. 

"Oh,  what  did  the  postman  bring?"  she  de- 
manded, seating  herself  on  the  edge  of  the  ham- 
mock swung  under  the  umbrella-tree.  "  I've  almost 
walked  myself  into  a  sunstroke,  hurrying  to  get 
here  and  find  out.  Is  it  from  Jack  or  Holland  or 
Cousin  Kate?  " 

"  It  is  from  The  Locusts,"  answered  Joyce,  lean- 
ing forward  to  see  what  was  tied  to  the  other  end 
of  the  rope  which  Mary  still  held.  Seeing  that  it 
was  only  a  snake,  something  which  Mary  and  Hol- 
land were  always  dragging  home,  to  add  to  their 
collection  of  skins  and  shells,  she  went  on : 

"  The  Little  Colonel  is  to  have  a  second  house- 
party.  The  same  girls  that  were  at  the  first  one 
are  invited  for  the  month  of  June,  and  Eugenia  is 
to  be  married  there  instead  of  in  New  York.  Think 
what  a  wedding  it  will  be,  in  that  beautiful  old 
Southern  home!  A  thousand  times  nicer  than  it 
would  have  been  in  New  York." 

She  stopped  to  enjoy  the  effect  her  news  had 
produced.  Mary's  face  was  glowing  with  unself- 
ish pleasure  in  her  sister's  good  fortune. 

"  And  we're  to  wear  pale  pink  chiffon  dresses, 
just  the  color  of  wild  roses.  Eugenia  got  the  ma- 


28   THE  LITTLE  COLONEL:  MAID  OF  HONOR 

terial  in  Paris  when  she  ordered  her  wedding-gown, 
and  they're  to  be  made  in  Louisville  after  we  get 
there." 

The  light  in  Mary's  face  was  deepening. 

"  And  Phil  Tremont  is  to  be  there  the  entire 
month  of  June.  He  is  to  be  best  man,  you  know, 
since  Eugenia  is  to  marry  his  brother." 

"Oh,  Joyce!"  gasped  Mary.  "What  a  heav- 
enly time  you  are  going  to  have!  Just  The  Lo- 
custs by  itself  would  be  good  enough,  but  to  be 
there  at  a  house-party,  and  have  Phil  there  and  to 
see  a  wedding!  I've  always  wanted  to  go  to  a 
wedding.  I  never  saw  one  in  my  life." 

"  Tell  her  the  rest,  daughter,"  prompted  Mrs. 
Ware,  gently.  "  Don't  keep  her  in  the  dark  any 
longer." 

"  Well,  then,"  said  Joyce,  smiling  broadly.  "  Let 
me  break  it  to  you  by  degrees,  so  the  shock  won't 
give  you  apoplexy  or  heart-failure.  The  rest  of 
it  is,  that  you  —  Mary  Ware,  are  invited  also. 
You  are  invited  to  go  with  me  to  the  house-party 
at  The  Locusts!  And  you'll  see  the  wedding,  for 
Mr.  Sherman  is  going  to  send  tickets  for  both  of 
us,  and  mamma  and  I  have  made  all  the  plans. 
Now  that  she  is  so  well,  she  won't  need  either  of 
us  while  she's  up  at  the  camp  with  Jack,  and  the 


AT  WAKE'S   WIGWAM  2$ 

money  it  would  have  taken  to  pay  your  board  will 
buy  the  new  clothes  you  need." 

All  the  color  faded  out  of  the  hot  little  face  as 
Mary  listened,  growing  pale  with  excitement. 

"  Oh,  mamma,  is  it  true? "  she  asked,  implor- 
ingly. "  I  don't  see  how  it  can  be.  But  Joyce 
wouldn't  fool  me  about  anything  as  big  as  this, 
would  she  ?  " 

She  asked  the  question  in  such  a  quiver  of  eager- 
ness that  the  tears  sprang  to  her  eyes.  Joyce  had 
expected  her  to  spin  around  on  her  toes  and  squeal 
one  delighted  little  squeal  after  another,  as  she 
usually  did  when  particularly  happy.  She  did  not 
know  what  to  expect  next,  when  all  of  a  sudden 
Mary  threw  herself  across  her  mother's  lap  and 
began  to  sob  and  laugh  at  the  same  time. 

"  Oh,  mamma,  the  old  Vicar  was  right.  It's 
been  awfully  hard  sometimes  to  k-keep  inflexible. 
Sometimes  I  thought  it  would  nearly  k-kill  me! 
But  we  did  it!  We  did  it!  And  now  fortune  has 
changed  in  our  favor,  and  everything  is  all  right !  " 

A  rattle  of  wheels  made  her  look  up  and  hastily 
wipe  the  hem  of  her  pink  skirt  across  her  face 
again.  A  wagon  was  stopping  at  the  gate,  and  the 
man  who  was  to  stay  in  one  of  the  tents  and  take 
care  of  the  bees  in  their  absence  was  getting  out 


3O       THE  LITTLE   COLONEL:   MAID   OF  HONOR 

to  discuss  the  details  of  the  arrangement.  Joyce 
tossed  the  letter  into  Mary's  lap  and  rose  to  follow 
her  mother  out  to  the  hives.  There  were  several 
matters  of  business  to  arrange  with  him,  and  Mary 
knew  it  would  be  some  time  before  they  could  re- 
sume the  exciting  conversation  he  had  interrupted. 
She  read  the  letter  through,  hardly  believing  the 
magnitude  of  her  good  fortune.  But,  as  the  truth 
of  it  began  to  dawn  upon  her,  she  felt  that  she 
could  not  possibly  keep  such  news  to  herself  an- 
other instant.  It  might  be  an  hour  before  Joyce 
and  her  mother  had  finished  discussing  business 
with  the  man  and  Norman  was  away  fishing  some- 
where up  the  canal. 

So,  settling  her  hat  on  her  head,  she  started  back 
over  the  hot  road,  so  absorbed  in  the  thought  of  all 
she  had  to  tell  Hazel  that  she  was  wholly  uncon- 
scious of  the  fact  that  she  was  still  holding  tightly 
to  the  rope  tied  around  the  rattler's  neck.  Five 
feet  of  snake  twitched  along  behind  her  as  she 
started  on  a  run  toward  the  ranch. 


CHAPTER   III. 
IN  BEAUTY'S  QUEST 

«  Fortune  has  at  last  —  fortune  has  at  last  — 
Fortune  has  at  last  changed  in  our/a-vor ! " 

A  HUNDRED  times,  in  the  weeks  that  followed, 
Mary  turned  the  old  Vicar's  saying  into  sort  of  a 
chant,  and  triumphantly  intoned  it  as  she  went  about 
the  house,  making  preparations  for  her  journey. 
Most  of  the  time  she  was  not  aware  that  her  lips 
were  repeating  what  her  heart  was  constantly  sing- 
ing, and  one  day,  to  her  dire  mortification,  she 
chanted  the  entire  strain  in  one  of  the  largest  dry- 
goods  stores  in  Phoenix,  before  she  realized  what 
she  was  doing. 

She  had  gone  with  Joyce  to  select  some  dress 
material  for  herself.  It  had  been  so  long  since 
Mary  had  had  any  clothes  except  garments  made 
over  and  handed  down,  that  the  wealth  of  choice 
offered  her  was  almost  overpowering.  To  be  sure 
it  was  a  bargain  counter  they  were  hanging  over, 
31 


32       THE  LITTLE   COLONEL:  MAID   OF  HONOR 

but  the  remnants  of  lawn  and  organdy  and  gingham 
were  so  entrancingly  new  in  design  and  dainty  in 
coloring,  that  without  a  thought  to  appearances  she 
caught  up  the  armful  of  pretty  things  which  Joyce 
had  decided  they  could  afford.  Clasping  them 
ecstatically  in  an  impulsive  hug,  she  sang  at  the  top 
of  her  voice,  just  as  she  would  have  done  had  she 
been  out  alone  on  the  desert :  "  Fortune  has  at  last 
changed  in  our  /a-vor ! " 

When  Joyce's  horrified  exclamation  and  the 
clerk's  amused  smile  recalled  her  to  her  surround- 
ings, she  could  have  gone  under  the  counter  with 
embarrassment.  Although  she  flushed  hotly  for 
several  days  whenever  she  thought  of  the  way  every- 
body in  the  store  turned  to  stare  at  her,  she  still 
hummed  the  same  words  whenever  a  sense  of  her 
great  good  fortune  overwhelmed  her.  Such  times 
came  frequently,  especially  whenever  a  new  gar- 
ment was  completed  and  she  could  try  it  on  with 
much  preening  and  many  satisfied  turns  before  the 
mirror. 

It  was  on  one  of  these  occasions,  when  she  was 
proudly  revolving  in  the  daintiest  of  them  all,  a  pale 
blue  mull  which  she  declared  was  the  color  of  a 
wild  morning-glory,  that  a  remark  of  her  mother's, 
in  the  next  room,  filled  her  with  dismay.  It  had  not 


IN  BEAUTY'S  QUEST  33 

been  intended  for  her  ears,  but  it  floated  in  dis- 
tinctly, above  the  whirr  of  the  sewing-machine. 

"Joyce,  I  am  sorry  we  made  up  that  blue  for 
Mary.  She's  so  tanned  and  sunburned  that  it  seems 
to  bring  out  all  the  red  tints  in  her  skin,  and  makes 
her  look  like  a  little  squaw.  I  never  realized  how 
this  climate  has  injured  her  complexion  until  I  saw 
her  in  that  shade  of  blue,  and  remembered  how  be- 
coming it  used  to  be.  She  was  like  an  apple-blos- 
som, all  white  and  pink,  when  we  came  out  here." 

Mary  had  been  so  busy  looking  at  her  new  clothes 
that  she  had  paid  little  attention  to  the  face  above 
them,  reflected  in  the  mirror.  It  had  tanned  so 
gradually  that  she  had  become  accustomed  to  having 
that  sunbrowned  little  visage  always  smile  back  at 
her.  Besides,  every  one  she  met  was  tanned  by  the 
wind  and  weather,  some  of  them  spotted  with  big 
dark  freckles.  Joyce  wasn't.  Joyce  had  always 
been  careful  about  wearing  a  sunbonnet  or  a  wide 
brimmed  hat  when  she  went  out  in  the  sun.  Mary 
remembered  now,  with  many  compunctions,  how 
often  she  had  been  warned  to  do  the  same.  She 
wished  with  all  her  ardent  little  soul  that  she  had 
not  been  so  careless,  and  presently,  after  a  serious, 
half-tearful  study  of  herself  in  the  glass,  she  went 
away  to  find  a  remedy. 


34     THE  LITTLE   COLONEL:   MAID   OF  HONOR 

In  the  back  of  the  cook-book,  she  remembered, 
there  was  a  receipt  for  cold  cream,  and  in  a  maga- 
zine Mrs.  Lee  had  loaned  them  was  a  whole  column 
devoted  to  face  bleaches  and  complexion  restorers. 
Having  read  each  formula,  she  decided  to  try  them 
all  in  turn,  if  the  first  did  not  prove  effective. 

Buttermilk  and  lemon  juice  were  to  be  had  for  the 
taking  and  could  be  applied  at  night  after  Joyce  had 
gone  to  sleep.  Half-ashamed  of  this  desire  to  make 
herself  beautiful,  Mary  shrank  from  confiding  her 
troubles  to  any  one.  But  several  nights'  use  of  all 
the  home  remedies  she  could  get,  failed  to  produce 
the  desired  results.  When  she  anxiously  examined 
herself  in  the  glass,  the  unflattering  mirror  plainly 
showed  her  a  little  face,  not  one  whit  fairer  for  all 
its  treatment. 

The  house-party  was  drawing  near  too  rapidly  to 
waste  time  on  things  of  such  slow  action,  and  at  last, 
in  desperation,  she  took  down  the  savings-bank  in 
which,  after  long  hoarding,  she  had  managed  to  save 
nearly  two  dollars.  By  dint  of  a  button -hook  and  a 
hat-pin  and  an  hour's  patient  poking,  she  succeeded 
in  extracting  five  dimes.  These  she  wrapped  in  tis- 
sue paper,  and  folded  in  a  letter.  In  a  Phoenix 
newspaper  she  had  seen  an  advertisement  of  a  mag- 
ical cosmetic,  to  be  found  on  sale  at  one  of  the 


IN  BEAUTY'S  QUEST  35 

local  drug-stores,  and  this  was  an  order  for  a 
box. 

She  was  accustomed  to  running  out  to  watch  for 
the  postman.  Often  in  her  eagerness  to  get  the 
mail  she  had  met  him  half  a  mile  down  the  road. 
So  she  had  ample  opportunity  to  send  her  order  and 
receive  a  reply  without  the  knowledge  of  any  of  the 
family. 

It  was  a  delicious-smelling  ointment.  The  direc- 
tions on  the  wrapper  said  that  on  retiring,  it  was  to 
be  applied  to  the  face  like  a  thick  paste,  and  a  linen 
mask  worn  to  prevent  its  rubbing  off. 

Now  that  the  boys  were  away,  Mary  shared  the 
circular  tent  with  Joyce.  The  figures  "  mystical  and 
awful "  which  she  and  Holland  had  put  on  its  walls 
with  green  paint  the  day  they  moved  to  the  Wig- 
wam, had  faded  somewhat  in  the  fierce  sun  of 
tropical  summers,  but  they  still  grinned  hideously 
from  all  sides.  Outlandish  as  they  were,  however, 
no  face  on  all  the  encircling  canvas  was  as  grotesque 
as  the  one  which  emerged  from  under  the  bed  late 
in  the  afternoon,  the  day  the  box  of  cosmetic  was 
received. 

Mary  had  crept  under  the  bed  in  order  to  escape 
Norman's  prying  eyes  in  case  he  should  glance  into 
the  tent  in  search  of  her.  There,  stretched  out  on 


36     THE  LITTLE  COLONEL:   MAID  OF  HONOR 

the  floor  with  a  pair  of  scissors  and  a  piece  of  one 
of  her  old  linen  aprons,  she  had  fashioned  herself 
a  mask,  in  accordance  with  the  directions  on  the 
box.  The  holes  cut  for  the  eyes  and  nose  were  a 
trifle  irregular,  one  eye  being  nearly  half  an  inch 
higher  than  the  other,  and  the  mouth  was  decidedly 
askew.  But  tapes  sewed  on  at  the  four  corners 
made  it  ready  for  instant  use,  and  when  she  had 
put  it  on  and  crawled  out  from  under  the  bed,  she 
regarded  herself  in  the  glass  with  great  satisfaction. 

"  I  hope  Joyce  won't  wake  up  in  the  night  and  see 
me,"  she  thought.  "  She'd  be  scared  stiff.  This  is 
a  lot  of  trouble  and  expense,  but  I  just  can't  go  to 
the  house-party  looking  like  a  fright.  I'd  do  lots 
more  than  this  to  keep  the  Princess  from  being 
ashamed  of  me." 

Then  she  put  it  away  and.  went  out  to  the  ham- 
mock, under  the  umbrella-tree,  and  while  she  sat 
swinging  back  and  forth  for  a  long  happy  hour,  she 
pictured  to  herself  the  delights  of  the  coming  house- 
party.  The  Princess  would  be  changed,  she  knew. 
Her  last  photograph  showed  that.  One  is  almost 
grown  up  at  seventeen,  and  she  had  been  only  four- 
teen, Mary's  age,  when  she  made  that  never  to  be 
forgotten  visit  to  the  Wigwam.  And  she  would  see 
Betty  and  Betty's  godmother  and  Papa  Jack  and  the 


IN  BEAUTY'S  QUEST  37 

old  Colonel  and  Mom  Beck.  The  very  names,  as 
she  repeated  them  in  a  whisper,  sounded  interesting 
to  her.  And  the  two  little  knights  of  Kentucky,  and 
Miss  Allison  and  the  Waltons — they  were  all  myth- 
ical people  in  one  sense,  like  Alice  in  Wonderland 
and  Bo-peep,  yet  in  another  they  were  as  real  as 
Holland  or  Hazel  Lee,  for  they  were  household 
names,  and  she  had  heard  so  much  about  them  that 
she  felt  a  sort  of  kinship  with  each  one. 

With  the  mask  and  the  box  tucked  away  in  readi- 
ness under  her  pillow,  it  was  an  easy  matter  after 
Joyce  had  gone  to  sleep  for  Mary  to  lift  herself  to 
a  sitting  posture,  inch  by  inch.  Cautiously  as  a  cat 
she  raised  herself,  then  sat  there  in  the  darkness 
scooping  out  the  smooth  ointment  with  thumb  and 
finger,  and  spreading  it  thickly  over  her  inquisitive 
little  nose  and  plump  round  cheeks.  All  up  under 
her  hair  and  down  over  her  chin  she  rubbed  it  with 
energy  and  thoroughness.  Then  tying  on  the  mask, 
she  eased  herself  down  on  her  elbow,  little  by  little, 
and  snuggled  into  her  pillow  with  a  sigh  of  relief. 

It  was  a  long  time  before  she  fell  asleep.  The 
odor  of  the  ointment  was  sickeningly  sweet,  and  the 
mask  gave  her  a  hot  smothery  feeling.  When  she 
finally  dozed  off  it  was  to  fall  into  a  succession  of 
uneasy  dreams.  She  thought  that  the  cat  was  sit- 


38     THE  LITTLE   COLONEL:    MAID  OF  HONOR 

ting  on  her  face ;  that  an  old  ogre  had  her  head  tied 
up  in  a  bag  and  was  carrying  it  home  to  change  into 
an  apple  dumpling,  then  that  she  was  a  fly  and  had 
fallen  into  a  bottle  of  mucilage.  From  the  last 
dream  she  roused  with  a  start,  hot  and  uncomfort- 
able, but  hardly  wide  awake  enough  to  know  what 
was  the  matter. 

The  salty  dried  beef  they  had  had  for  supper  made 
her  intensely  thirsty,  and  remembering  the  pitcher 
of  fresh  water  which  Joyce  always  brought  into  the 
tent  every  night,  she  slipped  out  of  bed  and  stum- 
bled across  the  floor  toward  the  table.  The  moon 
was  several  nights  past  the  full  now,  so  that  at  this 
late  hour  the  walls  of  the  tent  glimmered  white  in 
its  light,  and  where  the  flap  was  turned  back  at  the 
end,  it  shone  in,  in  a  broad  white  path. 

Not  more  than  half  awake,  Mary  had  forgotten 
the  elaborate  way  in  which  she  had  tied  up  her  face, 
and  catching  sight  in  the  mirror  of  an  awful  spook 
gliding  toward  her,  she  stepped  back,  almost  frozen 
with  terror.  Never  had  she  imagined  such  a  hide- 
ous ghost,  white  as  flour,  with  one  round  eye  higher 
than  the  other,  and  a  dreadful  slit  of  a  mouth,  all 
askew. 

She  was  too  frightened  to  utter  a  sound,  but  the 
pitcher  fell  to  the  floor  with  a  crash,  and  as  the  cold 


IN  BEAUTY'S  QUEST  39 

water  splashed  over  her  feet  she  bounded  back  into 
bed  and  pulled  the  cover  over  her  head.  Instantly, 
as  her  hand  came  in  contact  with  the  mask  on  her 
face,  she  realized  that  it  was  only  her  own  reflection 
in  the  glass  which  had  frightened  her,  but  the  shock 
was  so  great  she  could  not  stop  trembling. 

Wakened  by  the  sound  of  the  breaking  pitcher 
and  Mary's  wild  plunge  back  into  bed,  Joyce  sat  up 
in  alarm,  but  in  response  to  her  whisper  Mary  ex- 
plained in  muffled  tones  from  under  the  bedclothes 
that  she  had  simply  gotten  up  for  a  drink  of  water 
and  dropped  the  pitcher.  All  the  rest  of  the  night 
her  sleep  was  fitful  and  uneasy,  for  toward  morn- 
ing her  face  began  to  burn  as  if  it  were  on  fire.  She 
tore  off  the  mask  and  used  it  to  wipe  away  what  re- 
mained of  the  ointment.  Most  of  it  had  been  ab- 
sorbed, however,  and  the  skin  was  broken  out  in 
little  red  blisters. 

Maybe  in  her  zeal  she  had  used  too  much  of  the 
magical  cosmetic,  or  maybe  her  face,  already  made 
tender  by  various  applications,  resented  the  vigor- 
ous rubbings  she  gave  it.  At  any  rate  she  had 
cause  to  be  frightened  when  she  saw  herself  in  the 
mirror.  As  she  lifted  the  pitcher  from  the  wash- 
stand,  she  happened  to  glance  at  the  proverb  calen- 
dar hanging  over  the  towel-rack,  and  saw  the  verse 


4O      THE  LITTLE    COLONEL:   MAID   OF  HONOR 

for  the  day.  It  was  "  Pride  goeth  before  destruc- 
tion, and  a  haughty  spirit  before  a  fall."  The  big 
red  letters  stood  out  accusingly. 

"  Oh  dear,"  she  thought,  as  she  plunged  her  burn- 
ing face  into  the  bowl  of  cold  water,  "  if  I  hadn't 
had  so  much  miserable  pride,  I  wouldn't  have  des- 
troyed what  little  complexion  I  had  left.  Like  as 
not  the  skin  will  all  peel  off  now,  and  I'll  look  like  a 
half-scaled  fish  for  weeks." 

She  was  so  irritable  later,  when  Joyce  exclaimed 
over  her  blotched  and  mottled  appearance,  that  Mrs. 
Ware  decided  she  must  be  coming  down  with  some 
kind  of  rash.  It  was  only  to  prevent  her  mother 
sending  for  a  doctor,  that  Mary  finally  confessed 
with  tears  what  she  had  done. 

"Why  didn't  you  ask  somebody?"  said  Joyce, 
trying  not  to  let  her  voice  betray  the  laughter  which 
was  choking  her,  for  Mary  showed  a  grief  too  deep 
to  ridicule. 

"I  —  I  was  ashamed  to,"  she  confessed,  "  and  I 
wanted  to  surprise  you  all.  The  advertisement  said 
g-grow  b-beautiful  while  you  sleep,  and  now  —  oh, 
it's  spoiled  me!  "  she  wailed.  "  And  I  can't  go  to 
the  house-party  —  " 

"  Yes,  you  can,  goosey,"  said  Joyce,  consolingly. 
"  Mamma  has  Grandma  Ware's  old  receipt  for  rose 


IN  BEAUTY'S  QUEST  4! 

balm,  that  will  soon  heal  those  blisters.  You  would 
have  saved  yourself  a  good  deal  o{  trouble  and  suf- 
fering if  you  had  gone  to  her  in  the  first  place." 

"Well,  don't  I  know  that?  "  blazed  Mary,  angrily. 
Then  hiding  her  face  in  her  arms  she  began  to  sob. 
"  You  don't  know  what  it  is  to  be  uh-ugly  like  me ! 
I  heard  mamma  say  that  I  was  as  brown  as  a  squaw, 
and  I  couldn't  bear  to  think  of  Lloyd  and  Betty  and 
everybody  at  The  Locusts  seeing  me  that  way. 
That's  why  I  did  it !  " 

"  You  are  not  ugly,  Mary  Ware,"  insisted  Joyce, 
in  a  most  reproving  big-sisterly  voice.  "  Everybody 
can't  be  a  raving,  tearing  beauty,  and  anybody  with 
as  bright  and  attractive  a  little  face  as  yours  ought 
to  b'e  satisfied  to  let  well  enough  alone." 

"  That's  all  right  for  you''  replied  Mary,  bitterly. 
"  But  you  aren't  fat,  with  a  turned-up  nose  and  just 
a  little  thin  straight  pigtail  of  hair.  "  You're  pretty, 
and  an  artist,  and  you're  going  to  be  somebody  some 
day.  But  I'm  just  plain  '  little  Mary,'  with  no 
talents  or  anything! " 

Choking  with  tears,  she  rushed  out  of  the  room, 
and  took  refuge  in  the  swing  down  by  the  beehives. 
For  once  the  "  School  of  the  Bees  "  failed  to  whis- 
per a  comforting  lesson.  This  was  a  trouble  which 
she  could  not  seal  up  in  its  cell,  and  for  many  days 


42       THE  LITTLE   COLONEL :   MAID    OF  HONOR 

it  poisoned  all  life's  honey.  Presently  she  slipped 
back  into  the  house  for  a  pencil  and  box  of  paper, 
and  sitting  on  the  swing  with  her  geography  on  her 
knees  for  a  writing-table,  she  poured  out  her  trou- 
bles in  a  letter  to  Jack.  It  was  only  a  few  hundred 
miles  to  the  mines,  and  she  could  be  sure  of  a  sym- 
pathetic answer  before  the  blisters  were  healed  on 
her  face,  or  the  hurt  had  faded  out  of  her  sensitive 
little  heart. 


CHAPTER   IV. 
MARY'S  "  PROMISED  LAND  " 

IT  was  a  hot,  tiresome  journey  back  to  Kentucky. 
Joyce,  worn  out  with  all  the  hurried  preparations  of 
packing  her  mother  and  Norman  off  to  the  mines, 
closing  the  Wigwam  for  the  summer,  and  putting 
her  own  things  in  order  for  a  long  absence,  was 
glad  to  lean  back  in  her  seat  with  closed  eyes,  and 
take  no  notice  of  her  surroundings.  But  Mary  trav- 
elled in  the  same  energetic  way  in  which  she  killed 
snakes.  Nothing  escaped  her.  Every  passenger  in 
the  car,  every  sight  along  the  way  was  an  object  of 
interest.  She  sat  up  straight  and  eager,  scarcely 
batting  an  eyelash,  for  fear  of  missing  something. 

To  her  great  relief  the  peeling  process  had  been 
a  short  one,  and  thanks  to  the  rose  balm,  not  a  trace 
of  a  blister  was  left  on  her  smooth  skin  to  remind 
her  of  her  foolish  little  attempt  to  beautify  herself 
in  secret.  The  first  day  she  made  no  acquaintances, 
for  she  admired  the  reserved  way  in  which  her 
pretty  nineteen-year-old  sister  travelled,  and  tried  to 

43 


44       THE   LITTLE    COLONEL:    MAID   OF  HONOR 

imitate  her,  but  after  one  day  of  elegant  composure 
she  longed  for  a  chance  to  drop  into  easy  sociability 
with  some  of  her  neighbors.  They  no  longer  seemed 
like  strangers  after  she  had  travelled  in  their  com- 
pany for  twenty- four  hours. 

So  she  seized  the  first  social  opportunity  which 
came  to  her  next  morning.  A  middle-aged  woman, 
who  was  taking  up  all  the  available  space  in  the 
dressing-room,  grudgingly  moved  over  a  few  inches 
when  Mary  tried  to  squeeze  in  to  wash  her  face. 
Any  one  but  Mary  would  have  regarded  her  as  a 
most  unpromising  companion,  when  she  answered 
her  question  with  a  grumbling  "  Yes,  been  on  two 
days,  and  got  two  more  to  go."  The  tone  was  as 
ungracious  as  if  she  had  said,  "  Mind  your  own 
business." 

The  train  was  passing  over  a  section  of  rough 
road  just  then,  and  they  swayed  against  each  other 
several  times,  with  polite  apologies  on  Mary's  part. 
Then  as  the  woman  finished  skewering  her  hair 
into  a  tight  knot  she  relaxed  into  friendliness  far 
enough  to  ask,  "  Going  far  yourself?  " 

"  Yes,  indeed ! "  answered  Mary,  cheerfully, 
reaching  for  a  towel.  "  Going  to  the  Promised 
Land." 

The  car  gave  a  sudden  lurch,  and  the  woman 


MARY'S  "PROMISED  LAND"  45 

dropped  her  comb,  as  she  was  sent  toppling  against 
Mary  so  forcibly  that  she  pinned  her  to  the  wall  a 
moment. 

"  My ! "  she  exclaimed  as  she  regained  her  bal- 
ance. "  You  don't  mean  clear  to  Palestine!  " 

"  No'm ;  our  promised  land  is  Kentucky,"  Mary 
hastened  to  explain.  "  Mamma  used  to  live  there, 
and  she's  told  us  so  much  about  the  beautiful  times 
that  she  used  to  have  in  Lloydsboro  Valley  that  it's 
been  the  dream  of  our  life  to  go  there.  Since  we've 
been  wandering  around  in  the  desert,  sort  of  camp- 
ing out  the  way  the  old  Israelites  did,  we've  got 
into  the  way  of  calling  that  our  promised  land." 

"Well,  I  wouldn't  count  too  much  on  it,"  ad- 
vised the  woman,  sourly.  "  They  say  distance  lends 
enchantment,  and  things  hardly  ever  turn  out  as 
nice  as  you  think  they're  going  to." 

"  They  do  at  our  house,"  persisted  Mary,  with  un- 
failing cheerfulness.  "  They  generally  turn  out 
nicer." 

Evidently  her  companion  felt  the  worse  for  a 
night  in  a  sleeper  and  had  not  yet  been  set  to  rights 
with  the  world  by  her  morning  cup  of  coffee,  for 
she  answered  as  if  Mary's  rose-colored  view  of  life 
so  early  in  the  day  irritated  her. 

"  Well,  maybe  your  folks  are  an  exception  to  the 


46      THE  LITTLE  COLONEL:   MAID   OF  HONOR 

rule,"  she  said,  sharply,  "  but  I  know  how  it  is  with 
the  world  in  general.  Even  old  Moses  himself 
didn't  have  his  journey  turn  out  the  way  he  expected 
to.  He  looked  forward  to  his  promised  land  for 
forty  years,  and  then  didn't  get  to  put  foot  on  it." 

"  But  he  got  to  go  to  heaven  instead,"  persisted 
Mary,  triumphantly,  "  and  that's  the  best  thing  that 
could  happen  to  anybody,  especially  if  you're  one 
hundred  and  twenty  years  old." 

There  was  no  answer  to  this  statement,  and  an- 
other passenger  appearing  at  the  dressing-room 
door  just  then,  the  woman  remarked  something 
about  two  being  company  and  three  a  crowd,  and 
squeezed  past  Mary  to  let  the  newcomer  take  her 
place. 

"  She  was  more  crowd  than  company,"  remarked 
Mary  confidentially  to  the  last  arrival.  "  She  took 
up  most  as  much  room  as  two  people,  and  it's  awful 
the  way  she  looks  on  the  dark  side  of  things." 

There  was  an  amused  twinkle  in  the  newcomer's 
eyes.  She  was  a  much  younger  woman  than  the  one 
whose  place  she  had  taken,  and  evidently  it  was  no 
trial  for  her  to  be  sociable  before  breakfast.  In  a 
few  minutes  she  knew  all  about  the  promised  land 
to  which  the  little  pilgrim  was  journeying,  and 
showed  such  friendly  interest  in  the  wedding  and 


MARY'S  "PROMISED  LAND"  47 

the  other  delights  in  store  for  her  that  Mary  lin- 
gered over  her  toilet  as  long  as  possible,  in  order  to 
prolong  the  pleasure  of  having  such  an  attentive 
audience. 

But  she  found  others  just  as  attentive  before  the 
day  was  over.  The  grateful  mother  whose  baby  she 
played  with,  welcomed  her  advances  as  she  would 
have  welcomed  sunshine  on  a  rainy  day.  The  tired 
tourists  who  yawned  over  their  time-tables,  found 
her  enthusiastic  interest  in  everybody  the  most  re- 
freshing thing  they  had  met  in  their  travels.  By 
night  she  was  on  speaking  terms  with  nearly  every- 
body in  the  car,  and  at  last,  when  the  long  journey 
was  done,  a  host  of  good  wishes  and  good-byes  fol- 
lowed her  all  down  the  aisle,  as  her  new-made 
friends  watched  her  departure,  when  the  train 
slowed  into  the  Union  Depot  in  Louisville.  She  little 
dreamed  what  an  apostle  of  good  cheer  she  had 
been  on  her  journey,  or  how  long  her  eager  little 
face  and  odd  remarks  would  be  remembered  by  her 
fellow  passengers. 

All  she  thought  of  as  the  train  stopped  was  that 
at  last  she  had  reached  her  promised  land. 

Those  of  the  passengers  who  had  thrust  their 
heads  out  of  the  windows,  saw  a  tall,  broad-shoul- 
dered young  man  come  hurrying  along  toward  the 


48      THE  LITTLE   COLONEL:  MAID   OF  HONOR 

girls,  and  heard  Joyce  exclaim  in  surprise,  "  Why, 
Rob  Moore!  Who  ever  dreamed  of  seeing  you 
here?  I  thought  you  were  in  college?  " 

"  So  I  was  till  day  before  yesterday,"  he  an- 
swered, as  they  shook  hands  like  the  best  of  old 
friends.  "  But  grandfather  was  so  ill  they  tele- 
graphed for  me,  and  I  got  leave  of  absence  for  the 
rest  of  the  term.  We  were  desperately  alarmed 
about  him,  but '  all's  well  that  ends  well.'  He  is  out 
of  danger  now,  and  it  gave  me  this  chance  of  com- 
ing to  meet  you." 

Mary,  standing  at  one  side,  watched  in  admiring 
silence  the  easy  grace  of  his  greeting  and  the  mas- 
terful way  in  which  he  took  possession  of  Joyce's 
suit-case  and  trunk  checks.  When  he  turned  to  her 
to  acknowledge  his  introduction  as  respectfully  as 
if  she  had  been  forty  instead  of  fourteen,  her  admi- 
ration shot  up  like  mercury  in  a  thermometer.  She 
had  felt  all  along  that  she  knew  Rob  Moore  inti- 
mately, having  heard  so  much  of  his  past  escapades 
from  Joyce  and  Lloyd.  It  was  Rob  who  had  given 
Joyce  the  little  fox  terrier,  Bob,  which  had  been 
such  a  joy  to  the  whole  family.  It  was  Rob  who 
had  shared  all  the  interesting  life  at  The  Locusts 
which  she  had  heard  pictured  so  vividly  that  she  had 
long  felt  that  she  even  knew  exactly  how  he  looked. 


MARY'S  "PROMISED  LAND"  49 

It  was  somewhat  of  a  shock  to  find  him  grown  up 
into  this  dignified  young  fellow,  broad  of  shoulders 
and  over  six  feet  tall. 

As  he  led  the  way  out  to  the  street  and  hailed  a 
passing  car,  he  explained  why  Lloyd  had  not  come 
in  to  meet  them,  adding,  "  Your  train  was  two 
hours  late,  so  I  telephoned  out  to  Mrs.  Sherman  that 
we  would  have  lunch  in  town.  I'll  take  you  around 
to  Benedict's." 

Mary  had  never  eaten  in  a  restaurant  before,  so  it 
was  with  an  inward  dread  that  she  might  betray  the 
fact  that  she  followed  Joyce  and  Rob  to  a  side- 
table  spread  for  three.  In  her  anxiety  to  do  the 
right  thing  she  watched  her  sister  like  a  hawk,  copy- 
ing every  motion,  till  they  were  safely  launched  on 
the  first  course  of  their  lunch.  Then  she  relaxed 
her  watchfulness  long  enough  to  take  a  full  breath 
and  look  at  some  of  the  people  to  whom  Rob  had 
bowed  as  they  entered. 

She  wanted  to  ask  the  name  of  the  lady  in  black 
at  the  opposite  table.  The  little  girl  with  her  at- 
tracted her  interest  so  that  she  could  hardly  eat. 
She  was  about  her  own  age  and  she  had  such  lovely 
long  curls  and  such  big  dark  eyes.  To  Mary,  whose 
besetting  sin  was  a  love  of  pretty  clothes,  the  picture 
hat  the  other  girl  wore  was  irresistible.  She  could 


50      THE  LITTLE   COLONEL :  MAID   OF  HONOR 

not  keep  her  admiring  glances  away  from  it,  and 
she  wished  with  all  her  heart  she  had  one  like  it. 
Presently  Joyce  noticed  it  too,  and  asked  the  very 
question  Mary  had  been  longing  to  ask. 

"  That  is  Mrs.  Walton,  the  General's  wife,  you 
know,"  answered  Rob,  "  and  her  youngest  daughter, 
Elise.  You'll  probably  see  all  three  of  the  girls 
while  you're  at  The  Locusts,  for  they're  living  in 
the  Valley  now  and  are  great  friends  of  Lloyd  and 
Betty." 

"  Oh,  I  know  all  about  them,"  answered  Joyce, 
"  for  Allison  and  Kitty  go  to  Warwick  Hall,  and 
Lloyd  and  Betty  fill  their  letters  with  their  sayings 
and  doings."  Mary  stole  another  glance  at  the  lady 
in  black.  So  this  was  an  aunt  of  the  two  little 
knights  of  Kentucky,  and  the  mother  of  the  "  Little 
Captain,"  whose  name  had  been  in  all  the  papers  as 
the  youngest  commissioned  officer  in  the  entire 
army.  She  would  have  something  to  tell  Holland  in 
her  next  letter.  He  had  always  been  so  interested  in 
everything  pertaining  to  Ranald  Walton,  and  had 
envied  him  his  military  career  until  he  himself  had 
an  opportunity  to  go  into  the  navy. 

Presently  Mrs.  Walton  finished  her  lunch,  and  on 
her  way  out  stopped  at  their  table  to  shake  hands 
with  Rob. 


MARY'S  "PROMISED   LAND"  5 1 

"  I  was  sure  that  this  is  Joyce  Ware  and  her 
sister,"  she  exclaimed,  cordially,  as  Rob  introduced 
them.  "  My  girls  are  so  excited  over  your  coming 
they  can  hardly  wait  to  meet  you.  They  are  having 
a  little  house-party  themselves,  at  present,  some 
girls  from  Lexington  and  two  young  army  officers, 
whom  I  want  you  to  know.  Come  here,  Elise,  and 
meet  the  Little  Colonel's  Wild  West  friends.  Oh, 
we've  lived  in  Arizona  too,  you  know,"  she  added, 
laughing,  "  and  I've  a  thousand  questions  to  ask  you 
about  our  old  home.  I'm  looking  forward  to  a 
long,  cozy  toe-to-toe  on  the  subject,  every  time  you 
come  to  The  Beeches." 

After  a  moment's  pleasant  conversation  she  passed 
on,  leaving  such  an  impression  of  friendly  cordial- 
ity that  Joyce  said,  impulsively,  "  She's  just  dear! 
She  makes  you  feel  as  if  you'd  known  her  always. 
Now  toe-to-toe,  for  instance.  That's  lots  more  inti- 
mate and  sociable  than  tete-a-tete." 

"  That's  what  I  thought,  too,"  exclaimed  Mary. 
"  And  isn't  it  nice,  when  you  come  visiting  this  way, 
to  know  everybody's  history  beforehand!  Then 
just  as  soon  as  they  appear  on  the  scene  you  can  fit 
in  a  background  behind  them." 

It  was  the  first  remark  Mary  had  made  in  Rob's 
hearing,  except  an  occasional  monosyllable  in  regard 


52     THE  LITTLE   COLONEL:    MAID   OF  HONOR 

to  her  choice  of  dishes  on  the  bill  of  fare,  and  he 
turned  to  look  at  her  with  an  amused  smile,  as  if 
he  had  just  waked  up  to  the  fact  that  she  was 
present. 

"  She's  a  homely  little  thing,"  he  thought,  "  but 
she  looks  as  if  she  might  grow  up  to  be  diverting 
company.  She  couldn't  be  a  sister  of  Joyce's  and 
not  be  bright."  Then,  in  order  to  hear  what  she 
might  say,  he  began  to  ask  her  questions.  She  was 
eating  ice-cream.  Joyce,  who  had  refused  dessert 
on  account  of  a  headache,  opened  her  chatelaine 
bag  to  take  out  an  envelope  already  stamped  and 
addressed. 

"If  you'll  excuse  me  while  you  finish  your  cof- 
fee," she  said  to  Rob,  "  I'll  scribble  a  line  to  mamma 
to  let  her  know  we've  arrived  safely.  I've  dropped 
notes  all  along  the  way,  but  this  is  the  one  she'll  be 
waiting  for  most  anxiously.  It  will  take  only  a 
minute." 

"  Certainly,"  answered  Rob,  looking  at  his  watch. 
"We  have  over  twenty  minutes  to  catch  the  next 
trolley  out  to  the  Valley.  They  run  every  half -hour 
now,  you  know.  So  take  your  time.  It  will  give 
me  a  chance  to  talk  to  Mary.  She  hasn't  told  me 
yet  what  her  impressions  are  of  this  grand  old  Com- 
monwealth." 


MAXY'S  "PROMISED  LAND"  53 

If  he  had  thought  his  teasing  tone  would  bring 
the  color  to  her  face,  it  was  because  he  was  not  as 
familiar  with  her  background  as  she  was  with  his. 
A  long  apprenticeship  under  Jack  and  Holland  had 
made  her  proof  against  ordinary  banter. 

"  Well,"  she  began,  calmly,  mashing  the  edges  of 
her  ice-cream  with  her  spoon  to  make  it  melt  faster, 
"  so  far  it  is  just  as  I  imagined  it  would  be.  I've 
always  thought  of  Kentucky  as  a  place  full  of  col- 
ored people  and  pretty  girls  and  polite  men.  Of 
course  I've  not  been  anywhere  yet  but  just  in  this 
room,  and  it  certainly  seems  to  be  swarming  with 
colored  waiters.  I  can't  see  all  over  the  room  with- 
out turning  around,  but  the  ladies  at  the  tables  in 
front  of  me  and  the  ones  reflected  in  the  mirrors 
are  good-looking  and  stylish.  Those  girls  you 
bowed  to  over  there  are  pretty  enough  to  be  Gib- 
son girls,  just  stepped  out  of  a  magazine;  and  so 
far  —  you  are  the  only  man  I  have  met." 

"  Well,"  he  said  after  a  moment's  waiting,  "  you 
haven't  given  me  your  opinion  of  me" 

There  was  a  quizzical  twinkle  in  his  eye,  which 
Mary,  intent  upon  her  beloved  ice-cream,  did  not 
see.  Her  honest  little  face  was  perfectly  serious  as 
she  replied,  "  Oh,  you,  —  you're  like  Marse  Phil 
and  Marse  Chan  and  those  men  in  Thomas  Nelson 


54      THE  LITTLE   COLONEL  :   MAID   OF  HONOR 

Page's  stories  of  '  Ole  Virginia.'  I  love  those  sto- 
ries, don't  you  ?  Especially  the  one  about  '  Meh 
Lady.'  Of  course  I  know  that  everybody  in  the 
South  can't  be  as  nice  as  they  are,  but  whenever  I 
think  of  Kentucky  and  Virginia  I  think  of  people 
like  that." 

Such  a  broad  compliment  was  more  than  Rob  was 
prepared  for.  An  embarrassed  flush  actually  crept 
over  his  handsome  face.  Joyce,  glancing  up,  saw  it 
and  laughed. 

"  Mary  is  as  honest  as  the  father  of  his  country 
himself,"  she  said.  "  I'll  warn  you  now.  She'll 
always  tell  exactly  what  she  thinks." 

"  Now,  Joyce,"  began  Mary,  indignantly,  "  you 
know  I  don't  tell  everything  I  think.  I'll  admit  that 
I  did  use  to  be  a  chatterbox,  when  I  was  little,  but 
even  Holland  says  I'm  not,  now." 

"  I  didn't  mean  to  call  you  a  chatterbox,"  ex- 
plained Joyce.  "  I  was  just  warning  Rob  that  he 
must  expect  perfectly  straightforward  replies  to  his 
questions." 

Joyce  bent  over  her  letter,  and  in  order  to  start 
Mary  to  talking  again,  Rob  cast  about  for  another 
topic  of  conversation. 

"  You  wouldn't  call  those  three  girls  at  that  last 
table,  Gibson  girls,  would  you?  "  he  asked.  "  Look 


MARY'S  "PROMISED   LAND"  55 

at  that  dark  slim  one  with  the  red  cherries  in  her 
hat" 

Mary  glanced  at  her  critically.  "  No,"  she  said, 
slowly.  "  She  is  not  exactly  pretty  now,  but  she's 
the  ugly-duckling  kind.  She  may  turn  out  to  be  the 
most  beautiful  swan  of  them  all.  I  like  that  the  best 
of  any  of  Andersen's  fairy  tales.  Don't  you  ?  I  used 
to  look  at  myself  in  the  glass  and  tell  myself  that  it 
would  be  that  way  with  me.  That  my  straight  hair 
and  pug  nose  needn't  make  any  difference ;  that  some 
day  I'd  surprise  people  as  the  ugly  duckling  did. 
But  Jack  said,  no,  I  am  not  the  swan  kind.  That  no 
amount  of  waiting  will  make  straight  hair  curly  and 
a  curly  nose  straight.  Jack  says  I'll  have  my  in- 
nings when  I  am  an  old  lady  —  that  I'll  not  be  pretty 
till  I'm  old.  Then  he  says  I'll  make  a  beautiful 
grandmother,  like  Grandma  Ware.  He  says  her 
face  was  like  a  benediction.  That's  what  he  wrote 
to  me  just  before  I  left  home.  Of  course  I'd  rather 
be  a  beauty  than  a  benediction,  any  day.  But  Jack 
says  he  laughs  best  who  laughs  last,  and  it's  some- 
thing to  look  forward  to,  to  know  you're  going  to 
be  nice-looking  in  your  old  age  when  all  your 
friends  are  wrinkled  and  faded." 

Rob's  laugh  was  so  appreciative  that  Mary  felt 
with  a  thrill  that  he  was  finding  her  really  enter- 


56      THE  LITTLE   COLONEL :    MAID   OF  HONOR 

taining.  She  was  sorry  that  Joyce's  letter  came  to 
an  end  just  then.  Her  mother's  last  warning  had 
been  for  her  to  remember  on  all  occasions  that  she 
was  much  younger  than  Joyce's  friends,  and  they 
would  not  expect  her  to  take  a  grown-up  share  of 
their  conversation.  She  had  promised  earnestly  to 
try  to  curb  her  active  little  tongue,  no  matter  how 
much  she  wanted  to  be  chief  spokesman,  and  now, 
remembering  her  promise,  she  relapsed  into  sudden 
silence. 

All  the  way  out  to  the  Valley  she  sat  with  her 
hands  folded  in  her  lap,  on  the  seat  opposite  Joyce 
and  Rob.  The  car  made  so  much  noise  she  could 
catch  only  an  occasional  word  of  their  conversation, 
so  she  sat  looking  out  of  the  window,  busy  with  her 
thoughts. 

"  Sixty  minutes  till  we  get  there.  Now  it's  only 
fifty-nine.  Now  it's  fifty-eight  —  just  like  the 
song  *  Ten  little,  nine  little,  eight  little  Indians.' 
Pretty  soon  there'll  just  be  one  minute  left." 

At  this  exciting  thought  the  queer  quivery  feel- 
ing inside  was.  so  strong  it  almost  choked  her.  Her 
heart  gave  a  great  thump  when  Joyce  finally  called, 
"  Here  we  are,"  and  Rob  signalled  the  conductor 
to  stop  outside  the  great  entrance  gate. 

"  The  Locusts  "  at  last.     Pewees  in  the  cedars 


MARY'S  "PROMISED  LAND"  57 

and  robins  on  the  lawn;  everywhere  the  cool  deep 
shadows  of  great  trees,  and  wide  stretches  of  wav- 
ing blue-grass.  Stately  white  pillars  of  an  old 
Southern  mansion  gleamed  through  the  vines  at  the 
end  of  the  long  avenue.  Then  a  flutter  of  white 
dresses  and  gay  ribbons,  and  Lloyd  and  Betty  came 
running  to  meet  them. 


CHAPTER  V. 

AT    "  THE   LOCUSTS  " 

LLOYD  and  .Betty  had  been  home  from  Warwick 
Hall  only  two  days,  and  the  joyful  excitement  of 
arrival  had  not  yet  worn  off.  The  Locusts  had 
never  looked  so  beautiful  to  them  as  it  did  this 
vacation,  and  their  enthusiasm  over  all  that  was 
about  to  happen  kept  them  in  a  flutter  from  morn- 
ing1 till  night. 

When  Rob's  telephone  message  came  that  the 
train  was  late  and  that  he  could  not  bring  the  girls 
out  until  after  lunch,  Llovd  chafed  at  the  delay  at 
first.  Then  she  consoled  herself  with  the  thought 
that  she  could  arrange  a  more  effective  welcome  for 
the  middle  of  the  afternoon  than  for  an  earlier 
hour. 

"  Grandfathah  will  have  had  his  nap  by  that 
time,"  she  said,  with  a  saucy  glance  in  his  direc- 
tion, "  and  he  will  be  as  sweet  and  lovely  as  a  May 
mawning.  And  he'll  have  on  a  fresh  white  suit 
58 


AT  "THE  LOCUSTS"  59 

for  the  evening,  and  a  cah'nation  in  his  button- 
hole." Then  she  gave  her  orders  more  directly. 

"  You  must  be  suah  to  be  out  on  the  front  steps 
to  welcome  them,  grandfathah,  with  yoah  co'tliest 
bow.  And  mothah,  you  must  be  beside  him  in  that 
embroidered  white  linen  dress  of  yoahs  that  I  like 
so  much.  Mom  Beck  will  stand  in  the  doahway 
behind  you  all  just  like  a  pictuah  of  an  old-time 
South'n  welcome.  Of  co'se  Joyce  has  seen  it  all 
befoah,  but  little  Mary  has  been  looking  foh'wa'd  to 
this  visit  to  The  Locusts  as  she  would  to  heaven. 
You  know  what  Joyce  wrote  about  her  calling  this 
her  promised  land." 

"  I  know  how  it  is  going  to  make  her  feel,"  said 
Betty.  "  Just  as  it  made  me  feel  when  I  got  here 
from  the  Cuckoo's  Nest,  and  found  this  '  House 
Beautiful '  of  my  dreams.  And  if  she  is  the  little 
dreamer  that  I  was  the  best  time  will  not  be  the 
arrival,  but  early  candle-lighting  time,  when  you 
are  playing  on  your  harp.  I  used  to  sit  on  a  foot- 
stool at  godmother's  feet,  so  unutterably  happy,  that 
I  would  have  to  put  out  my  hand  to  feel  her  dress. 
I  was  so  afraid  that  she  might  vanish  —  that  every- 
thing was  too  lovely  to  be  real. 

"  And  now,  to  think,"  she  added,  turning  to  Mrs. 
Sherman  and  affectionately  laying  a  hand  on  each 


6O       THE  LITTLE    COLONEL :  MAID    OF  HONOR 

shoulder,  "  it's  lasted  all  this  time,  till  I  have 
grown  so  tall  that  I  could  pick  you  up  and  carry 
you  off,  little  godmother.  I  am  going  to  do  it 
some  day  soon,  lift  you  up  bodily  and  put  you  into 
a  story  that  I  have  begun  to  write.  It  will  be  my 
best  work,  because  it  is  what  I  have  lived." 

"  You'd  better  live  awhile  longer,"  laughed  Mrs. 
Sherman,  "before  you  begin  to  settle  what  your 
best  work  will  be.  Think  how  the  shy  little  Eliza- 
beth of  twelve  has  blossomed  into  the  stately  Eliza- 
beth of  eighteen,  and  think  what  possibilities  are 
still  ahead  of  you  in  the  next  six  years." 

"  When  mothah  and  Betty  begin  to  compliment 
each  othah,"  remarked  Lloyd,  seating  herself  on  the 
arm  of  the  old  Colonel's  chair,  "  they  are  lost  to  all 
else  in  the  world.  So  while  we  have  this  moment 
to  ou'selves,  my  deah  grandfathah,  I  want  to  im- 
press something  on  yoah  mind,  very  forcibly." 

The  playful  way  in  which  she  held  him  by  the 
ears  was  a  familiarity  no  one  but  Lloyd  had  ever 
dared  take  with  the  dignified  old  Colonel.  She 
emphasized  each  sentence  with  a  gentle  pull  and 
pinch. 

"  Maybe  you  wouldn't  believe  it,  but  this  little 
Mary  Ware  who  is  coming,  has  a  most  exalted 
opinion  of  me.  From  what  Joyce  says  she  thinks 


AT  «  THE  LOCUSTSn  6l 

I  am  perfect,  and  I  don't  want  her  disillusioned. 
It's  so  nice  to  have  somebody  look  up  to  you  that 
way,  so  I  want  to  impress  it  on  you  that  you're  not 
to  indulge  in  any  reminiscence  of  my  past  while  she 
is  heah.  You  mustn't  tell  any  of  my  youthful  mis- 
demeanahs  that  you  are  fond  of  telling  —  how  I 
threw  mud  on  yoah  coat,  in  one  of  my  awful  tem- 
pahs,  and  smashed  yoah  shaving-mug  with  a  walk- 
ing-stick, and  locked  Walkah  down  in  the  coal  cel- 
lah  when  he  wouldn't  do  what  I  wanted  him  to. 
You  must  '  let  the  dead  past  bury  its  dead,  and 
act  —  act  in  the  living  present/  so  that  she'll  think 
that  you  think  that  I'm  the  piece  of  perfection  she 
imagines  me  to  be." 

"  I'll  be  a  party  to  no  such  deception,"  answered 
the  old  Colonel,  sternly,  although  his  eyes,  smiling 
fondly  on  her,  plainly  spoke  consent.  "  You  know 
you're  the  worst  spoiled  child  in  Oldham  County." 

"Whose  fault  is  it?"  retorted  Lloyd,  with  a 
final  pinch  as  she  liberated  his  ears  and  darted 
away.  "  Ask  Colonel  George  Lloyd.  If  there  was 
any  spoiling  done,  he  did  it." 

Two  hours  later,  still  in  the  gayest  of  spirits, 
Lloyd  and  Betty  raced  down  the  avenue  to  meet 
their  guests,  and  tired  and  travel-stained  as  the 
newcomers  were,  the  impetuous  greeting  gave 


62  THE  LITTLE  COLONEL :  MAID  OF  HONOR 

them  a  sense  of  having  been  caught  up  into  a  gay 
whirl  of  some  kind.  It  gave  them  an  excited  thrill 
which  presaged  all  sorts  of  delightful  things  about 
to  happen.  The  courtly  bows  of  the  old  Colonel, 
standing  between  the  great  white  pillars,  Mrs.  Sher- 
man's warm  welcome,  and  Mom  Beck's  old-time 
curtseys,  seemed  to  usher  them  into  a  fascinating 
story-book  sort  of  life,  far  more  interesting  than 
any  Mary  had  yet  read. 

Several  hours  later,  sitting  in  the  long  drawing- 
room,  she  wondered  if  she  could  be  the  same  girl 
who  one  short  week  before  was  chasing  across  the 
desert  like  a  Comanche  Indian,  beating  the  bushes 
for  rattlesnakes,  or  washing  dishes  in  the  hot  little 
kitchen  of  the  Wigwam.  Here  in  the  soft  light 
shed  from  many  waxen  tapers  in  the  silver  cande- 
labra, surrounded  by  fine  old  ancestral  portraits, 
and  furniture  that  shone  with  the  polish  of  hos- 
pitable generations,  Mary  felt  civilized  down  to  her 
very  finger-tips :  so  thoroughly  a  lady,  through  and 
through,  that  the  sensation  sent  a  warm  thrill 
over  her. 

That  feeling  had  begun  soon  after  her  arrival, 
when  Mom  Beck  ushered  her  into  a  luxurious 
bathroom.  Mary  enjoyed  luxury  like  a  cat.  As 
she  splashed  away  in  the  big  porcelain  tub,  she 


AT  "THE  LOCUSTS"  63 

wished  that  Hazel  Lee  could  see  the  tiled  walls, 
the  fine  ample  towels  with  their  embroidered  mono- 
grams, the  dainty  soaps,  and  the  cut-glass  bottles  of 
toilet-water,  with  their  faint  odor  as  of  distant 
violets.  Then  she  wondered  if  Mom  Beck  would 
think  that  she  had  refused  her  offers  of  assistance 
because  she  was  not  used  to  the  services  of  a  lady's 
maid.  She  was  half -afraid  of  this  old  family  serv- 
ant in  her  imposing  head-handkerchief  and  white 
apron. 

Recalling  Joyce's  experiences  in  France  and  what 
had  been  the  duties  of  her  maid,  Marie,  she  decided 
to  call  her  in  presently  to  brush  her  hair  and  tie 
her  slippers.  Afterward  she  was  glad  that  she  had 
done  so,  for  Mom  Beck  was  a  practised  hair-dresser, 
and  made  the  most  of  Mary's  thin  locks.  She  so 
brushed  and  fluffed  and  be-ribboned  them  in  a  new 
way,  with  a  big  black  bow  on  top,  that  Mary 
beamed  with  satisfaction  when  she  looked  in  the 
glass.  The  new  way  was  immensely  becoming. 

Then  when  she  went  down  to  dinner,  it  seemed 
so  elegant  to  find  Mr.  Sherman  in  a  dress  suit.  The 
shaded  candles  and  cut  glass  and  silver  and  roses 
on  the  table  made  it  seem  quite  like  the  dinner-par- 
ties she  had  read  about  in  novels,  and  the  talk  that 
circled  around  of  the  latest  books  and  the  new 


64      THE  LITTLE    COLONEL:   MAID   OF  HONOR 

opera,  and  the  happenings  in  the  world  at  large, 
and  the  familiar  mention  of  famous  names,  made 
her  feel  as  if  she  were  in  the  real  social  whirl  at 
last. 

The  name  of  copy-cat  which  Holland  had  given 
her  proved  well-earned  now,  for  so  easily  did  she 
fall  in  with  the  ways  about  her,  that  one  would 
have  thought  her  always  accustomed  to  formal  din- 
ners, with  a  deft  colored  waiter  like  Alec  at  her 
elbow. 

Rob  dined  with  them,  and  later  in  the  evening 
Mrs.  Walton  came  strolling  over  in  neighborly 
fashion,  bringing  her  house-party  to  call  on  the  other 
party,  she  said,  though  to  be  sure  only  half  of  her 
guests  had  arrived,  the  two  young  army  officers, 
George  Logan  and  Robert  Stanley.  Allison  and 
Kitty  were  with  them,  and  —  Mary  noted  with  a 
quick  indrawn  breath  —  Ranald.  The  title  of 
Little  Captain  no  longer  fitted  him.  He  was  far 
too  tall.  She  was  disappointed  to  find  him  grown. 

Somehow  all  the  heroes  and  heroines  whom  she 
had  looked  upon  as  her  own  age,  who  were  her 
own  age  when  the  interesting  things  she  knew  about 
them  had  happened,  were  all  grown  up.  Her  first 
disappointment  had  been  in  Rob,  then  in  Betty.  For 
this  Betty  was  not  the  one  Joyce  had  pictured  in 


AT  "  THE   LOCUSTS"  65 

her  stories  of  the  first  house-party.  This  one  had 
long  dresses,  and  her  curly  hair  was  tucked  up  on 
her  head  in  such  a  bewitchingly  young-ladified  way 
that  Mary  was  in  awe  of  her  at  first.  She  was  not 
disappointed  in  her  now,  however,  and  no  longer  in 
awe,  since  Betty  had  piloted  her  over  the  place, 
swinging  hands  with  her  in  as  friendly  a  fashion  as 
if  she  were  no  older  than  Hazel  Lee,  and  telling  the 
way  she  looked  when  she  saw  The  Locusts  for  the 
first  time  —  a  timid  little  country  girl  in  a  sunbon- 
net,  with  a  wicker  basket  on  her  arm. 

The  military  uniforms  lent  an  air  of  distinction 
to  the  scene,  and  Allison  and  Kitty  each  began  a 
conversation  in  such  a  vivacious  way,  that  Mary 
found  it  difficult  to  decide  which  group  to  attach 
herself  to.  She  did  not  want  to  lose  a  word  that 
any  one  was  saying,  and  the  effort  to  listen  to  sev- 
eral separate  conversations  was  as  much  of  a  strain 
as  trying  to  watch  three  rings  at  the  circus. 

Through  the  laughter  and  the  repartee  of  the 
young  people  she  heard  Mrs.  Walton  say  to  Mr. 
Sherman :  "  Yes,  only  second  lieutenants,  but  I've 
been  an  army  woman  long  enough  to  appreciate 
them  as  they  deserve.  They  have  no  rank  to  speak 
of,  few  privileges,  are  always  expected  to  do  the 
agreeable  to  visitors  (and  they  do  it),  obliged  to 


66   THE  LITTLE  COLONEL:  MAID  OF  HONOR 

give  up  their  quarters  at  a  moment's  notice,  take 
the  duties  nobody  else  wants,  be  cheerful  under  all 
conditions,  and  ready  for  anything.  It  is  an  excep- 
tion when  a  second  lieutenant  is  not  dear  and  fasci- 
nating. As  for  these  two,  I  am  doubly  fond  of 
them,  for  their  fathers  were  army  men  before  them, 
and  old-time  friends  of  ours.  George  I  knew  as 
a  little  lad  in  Washington.  I  must  tell  you  of  an 
adventure  of  his,  that  shows  what  a  sterling  fellow 
he  is." 

Mary  heard  only  part  of  the  anecdote,  for  at  the 
same  time  Kitty  was  telling  an  uproariously  funny 
joke  on  Ranald,  and  all  the  rest  were  laughing.  But 
she  heard  enough  to  make  her  take  a  second  look  at 
Lieutenant  Logan.  He  was  leaning  forward  in  his 
chair,  talking  to  Joyce  with  an  air  of  flattering  in- 
terest. And  Joyce,  in  one  of  her  new  dresses,  her 
face  flushed  a  little  from  the  unusual  excitement, 
was  talking  her  best  and  looking  her  prettiest. 

"  She's  having  a  good  time  just  like  other  girls," 
thought  Mary,  thankfully.  "  This  will  make  up  for 
lots  of  lonely  times  in  the  desert,  when  she  was 
homesick  for  the  high-school  girls  and  boys  at 
Plainsville.  It  would  be  fine  if  things  would  turn 
out  so  that  Joyce  liked  an  army  man.  If  she  mar- 
ried one  and  lived  at  a  post  she'd  invite  me  to  visit 


HE    WAS    LEANING    FORWARD     IN     HIS    CHAIR,    TALKING     TO 
JOYCE  " 


AT  "  THE  LOCUSTS"  6/ 

her.  Lieutenant  Logan  might  be  a  general  some 
day,  and  it  would  be  nice  to  have  a  great  man  in  the 
family.  I  wish  mamma  and  Jack  and  Holland 
could  see  what  a  good  time  we  are  having." 

It  did  not  occur  to  Mary  that,  curled  up  in  a  big 
chair  in  the  corner,  she  was  taking  no  more  active 
share  in  the  good  times  than  the  portraits  on  the 
wall.  Her  eager  smile  and  the  alert  happy  look  in 
her  eyes  showed  that  she  was  all  atingle  with  the 
unusual  pleasure  the  evening  was  affording  her. 
She  laughed  and  looked  and  listened,  sure  that  the 
scene  she  was  enjoying  was  as  good  as  a  play.  She 
had  never  seen  a  play,  it  is  true ;  but  she  had  read  of 
them,  and  of  player  folk,  until  she  knew  she  was 
fitted  to  judge  of  such  things. 

It  was  a  pleasure  just  to  watch  the  gleam  of  the 
soft  candle-light  on  Kitty's  red  ribbons,  or  on  the 
string  of  gold  beads  around  Allison's  white  throat. 
Maybe  it  was  the  candle-light  which  threw  such  a 
soft  glamour  over  everything  and  made  it  seem  that 
the  pretty  girls  and  the  young  lieutenants  were  only 
portraits  out  of  a  beautiful  old  past  who  had  stepped 
down  from  their  frames  for  a  little  while.  Yet 
when  Mary  glanced  up,  the  soldier  boy  was  still  in 
his  picture  on  the  wall,  and  the  beautiful  girl  with 
the  June  rose  in  her  hair  was  still  in  her  frame, 


68   THE  LITTLE  COLONEL:  MAID  OF  HONOR 

standing  beside  her  harp,  her  white  hand  resting  on 
its  shining  strings. 

"  It  is  my  grandmothah  Amanthis,"  explained 
Lloyd  in  answer  to  the  lieutenant's  question,  as  his 
gaze  also  rested  admiringly  on  it.  "  Yes,  this  is  the 
same  harp  you  see  in  the  painting.  Yes,  I  play  a 
little.  I  learned  to  please  grand fathah." 

Then,  a  moment  later,  Mary  reached  the  crown 
of  her  evening's  enjoyment,  for  Lloyd,  in  response 
to  many  voices,  took  her  place  beside  the  harp  be- 
low the  picture,  and  struck  a  few  deep,  rich  chords. 
Then,  with  an  airy  running  accompaniment,  she  be- 
gan the  Dove  Song  from  the  play  of  "  The  Princess 
Winsome:" 

"  Flutter  and  fly,  flutter  and  fly, 
Bear  him  my  heart  of  gold." 

It  was  all  as  Mary  had  imagined  it  would  be,  a 
hundred  times  in  her  day-dreams,  only  far  sweeter 
and  more  beautiful.  She  had  not  thought  how  the 
white  sleeves  would  fall  back  from  the  round  white 
arms,  or  how  her  voice  would  go  fluttering  up  like 
a  bird,  sweet  and  crystal  clear  on  the  last  high  note. 

Afterward,  when  the  guests  were  gone  and  every- 
body had  said  good  night,  Mary  lay  awake  in  the 
pink  blossom  of  a  room  which  she  shared  with 


AT  «  THE  LOCUSTS"  69 

Joyce,  the  same  room  Joyce  had  had  at  the  first 
house-party.  She  was  having  another  good  time, 
thinking  it  all  over.  She  thought  scornfully  of  the 
woman  on  the  sleeping-car  who  had  told  her  that 
distance  lends  enchantment,  and  that  she  must  not 
expect  too  much  of  her  promised  land.  She  hoped 
she  might  meet  that  woman  again  some  day,  so  that 
she  could  tell  her  that  it  was  not  only  as  nice  as  she 
had  expected  to  find  it,  but  a  hundred  times  nicer. 
She  reminded  herself  that  she  must  tell  Betty 
about  her  in  the  morning.  As  she  recalled  one 
pleasant  incident  after  another,  she  thought,  "  Now 
this  is  life!  No  wonder  Lloyd  is  so  bright  and  in- 
teresting when  she  has  been  brought  up  in  such  an 
atmosphere." 


CHAPTER   VI. 

THE   FOX   AND  THE   STORK 

LLOYD  SHERMAN  at  seventeen  was  a  combina- 
tion of  all  the  characters  her  many  nicknames  im- 
plied. The  same  imperious  little  ways  and  hasty 
outbursts  of  temper  that  had  won  her  the  title  of 
Little  Colonel  showed  themselves  at  times.  But 
she  was  growing  so  much  like  the  gentle  maiden 
of  the  portrait  that  the  name  "  Amanthis  "  trem- 
bled on  the  old  Colonel's  lips  very  often  when  he 
looked  at  her.  The  Tusitala  ring  on  her  finger 
showed  that  she  still  kept  in  mind  the  Road  of  the 
Loving  Heart,  which  she  was  trying  to  leave  be- 
hind her  in  every  one's  memory,  and  the  string  of 
tiny  Roman  pearls  she  sometimes  clasped  around 
her  throat  bore  silent  witness  to  her  effort  to  live 
up  to  the  story  of  Ederyn,  and  keep  tryst  with  all 
that  was  expected  of  her. 

When  a  long  line  of  blue-blooded  ancestors  has 
handed  down  a  heritage  of  proud  traditions  and 
family  standards,  it  is  no  easy  matter  to  be  all  that 

20 


THE  FOX  AND   THE  STORK  Jl 

is  expected  of  an  only  child.  But  Lloyd  was  meet- 
ing all  expectations,  responding  to  the  influence  of 
beauty  and  culture  with  which  she  had  always  been 
surrounded,  as  unconsciously  as  a  bud  unfolds  to 
the  sunshine.  Her  ambition  "  to  make  undying 
music  in  the  world,"  to  follow  in  the  footsteps  of 
her  beautiful  grandmother  Amanthis,  was  in  itself 
a  reaching-up  to  one  of  the  family  ideals. 

When  the  girls  began  calling  her  the  Princess 
Winsome,  unconsciously  she  began  to  reach  up  to 
be  worthy  of  that  title  also,  but  when  she  found 
that  Mary  Ware  was  taking  her  as  a  model  Maid 
of  Honor,  in  all  that  that  title  implies,  she  began 
to  feel  that  a  burden  was  laid  upon  her  shoulders. 
She  had  had  such  admirers  before:  little  Mag- 
nolia Budine  at  Lloydsboro  Seminary,  and  Cornie 
Dean  at  Warwick  Hall.  It  was  pleasant  to  know 
that  they  considered  her  perfection,  but  it  was  a 
strain  to  feel  that  she  was  their  model,  and  that 
they  copied  her  in  everything,  her  faults  as  well 
as  her  graces.  They  had  followed  her  like  shad- 
ows, and  such  devotion  grows  tiresome. 

Happily  for  Mary  Ware,  whatever  else  she  did, 
she  never  bored  any  one.  She  was  too  independent 
and  original  for  that.  When  she  found  an  ccca* 
sion  to  talk,  she  made  the  most  of  her  opportunity, 


72   THE  LITTLE  COLONEL:  MAID  OF  HONOR 

and  talked  with  all  her  might,  but  her  sensitiveness 
to  surroundings  always  told  her  when  it  was  time 
to  retire  into  the  background,  and  she  could  be  so 
dumb  as  to  utterly  efface  herself  when  the  time 
came  for  her  to  keep  silent. 

A  long  list  of  delights  filled  her  first  letter  home, 
but  the  one  most  heavily  underscored,  and  chief 
among  them  all,  was  the  fact  that  the  big  girls 
did  not  seem  to  consider  her  a  "  little  pitcher  "  or 
a  "  tag."  No  matter  where  they  went  or  what  they 
talked  about,  she  was  free  to  follow  and  to  listen. 
It  was  interesting  to  the  verge  of  distraction  when 
they  talked  merely  of  Warwick  Hall  and  the  school- 
girls, or  recalled  various  things  that  had  happened 
at  the  first  house-party.  But  when  they  discussed 
the  approaching  wedding,  the  guests,  the  gifts,  the 
decorations,  and  the  feast,  she  almost  held  her 
breath  in  her  eager  enjoyment  of  it. 

Several  times  a  day,  after  the  passing  of  the 
trains,  Alec  came  up  from  the  station  with  express 
packages.  Most  of  them  were  wedding  presents, 
which  the  bridesmaids  pounced  upon  and  carried 
away  to  the  green  room  to  await  Eugenia's  ar- 
rival. Every  package  was  the  occasion  of  much 
guessing  and  pinching  and  wondering,  and  the  mys- 


THE  FOX  AND    THE  STORK  f$ 

tery  was  almost  as  exciting  as  the  opening  would 
have  been. 

The  conversation  often  led  into  by-paths  that 
were  unexplored  regions  to  the  small  listener  in 
the  background  among  the  window-seat  cushions: 
husbands  and  lovers  and  engagements,  all  the  thrill- 
ing topics  that  a  wedding  in  the  family  naturally 
suggests.  Sometimes  a  whole  morning  would  go 
by  without  her  uttering  a  word,  and  Mrs.  Sherman, 
who  had  heard  what  a  talkative  child  she  was, 
noticed  her  silence.  Thinking  it  was  probably  dull 
for  her,  she  reproached  herself  for  not  having  pro- 
vided some  especial  company  for  the  entertainment 
of  her  youngest  guest,  and  straightway  set  to  work 
to  do  so. 

Next  morning  a  box  of  pink  slippers  was  sent 
out  from  Louisville  on  approval,  and  the  brides- 
maids and  maid  of  honor,  seated  on  the  floor  in 
Betty's  room,  tried  to  make  up  their  minds  which 
to  choose,  —  the  kid  or  the  satin  ones.  With  each 
slim  right  foot  shod  in  a  fairy-like  covering  of 
shimmering  satin,  and  each  left  one  in  daintiest 
pink  kid,  the  three  girls  found  it  impossible  to 
determine  which  was  the  prettier,  and  called  upon 
Mary  for  her  opinion. 

All  in  a  flutter  of  importance,  she  was  surveying 


74   THE  LITTLE  COLONEL:  MAID  OF  HONOR 

the  pretty  exhibit  of  outstretched  feet,  when  Mom 
Beck  appeared  at  the  door  with  a  message  from 
Mrs.  Sherman.  There  was  a  guest  for  Miss  Mary 
in  the  library.  Would  she  please  go  down  at  once. 
Her  curiosity  was  almost  as  great  as  her  reluctance 
to  leave  such  an  interesting  scene.  She  stood  in 
the  middle  of  the  floor,  wringing  her  hands. 

"  Oh,  if  I  could  only  be  in  two  places  at  once !  " 
she  exclaimed.  "  But  maybe  whoever  it  is  won't 
stay  long,  and  I  can  get  back  before  you  decide." 

Hurrying  down  the  stairs,  she  went  into  the 
library,  where  Mrs.  Sherman  was  waiting  for  her. 

"  This  is  one  of  our  little  neighbors,  Mary,"  she 
said,  "  Girlie  Dinsmore." 

A  small-featured  child  of  twelve,  with  pale  blue 
eyes  and  long,  pale  flaxen  curls,  came  forward  to 
meet  her.  To  Mary's  horror,  she  held  a  doll  in 
her  arms  almost  as  large  as  herself,  and  on  the 
table  beside  her  stood  a  huge  toy  trunk. 

"  I  brought  all  of  Evangeline's  clothes  with  me," 
announced  Girlie,  as  soon  as  Mrs.  Sherman  had  left 
them  to  themselves.  "  'Cause  I  came  to  stay  all 
morning,  and  I  knew  she'd  have  plenty  of  time  to 
wear  every  dress  she  owns." 

Mary  could  not  help  the  gasp  of  dismay  that 
escaped  her,  thinking  of  that  fascinating  row  of 


THE  FOX  AND   THE  STORK  75 

pink  slippers  awaiting  her  up-stairs.  From  brides- 
maids to  doll-babies  is  a  woful  fall. 

"  Where  is  your  doll?  "  demanded  Girlie. 

"  Oh,  I  haven't  any,"  said  Mary,  with  a  grown-up 
shrug  of  the  shoulders.  "  I  stopped  playing  with 
them  ages  ago." 

Then  realizing  what  an  impolite  speech  that  was, 
she  hastened  to  make  amends  by  adding :  "I  some- 
times dress  Hazel  Lee's,  though.  Hazel  is  one  of 
my  friends  back  in  Arizona.  Once  I  made  a  whole 
Indian  costume  for  it  like  the  squaws  make.  The 
moccasins  were  made  out  of  the  top  of  a  kid  glove, 
and  beaded  just  like  real  ones." 

Girlie's  pale  eyes  opened  so  wide  at  the  mention 
of  Indians  that  Mary  almost  forgot  her  disappoint- 
ment at  being  called  away  from  the  big  girls,  and 
proceeded  to  make  them  open  still  wider  with  her 
tales  of  life  on  the  desert.  In  a  few  moments  she 
carried  the  trunk  out  on  to  a  vine-covered  side 
porch,  where  they  made  a  wigwam  out  of  two 
hammocks  and  a  sunshade,  and  changed  the  waxen 
Evangeline  into  a  blanketed  squaw,  with  feathers 
in  her  blond  Parisian  hair. 

Mom  Beck  looked  out  several  times,  and  finally 
brought  them  a  set  of  Lloyd's  old  doll  dishes  and 
the  daintiest  of  luncheons  to  spread  on  a  low  table. 


76   THE  LITTLE  COLONEL:  MAID  OF  HONOR 

There  were  olive  sandwiches,  frosted  cakes,  berries 
and  cream,  and  bonbons  and  nuts  in  a  silver  dish 
shaped  like  a  calla-lily. 

For  the  first  two  hours  Mary  really  enjoyed 
being  hostess,  although  now  and  then  she  wished 
she  could  slip  up-s.tairs  long  enough  to  see  what 
the  girls  were  doing.  But  when  she  had  told  all 
the  interesting  tales  she  could  think  of,  cleared 
away  the  remains  of  the  feast,  and  played  with  the 
doll  until  she  was  sick  of  the  sight  of  it,  she  began 
to  be  heartily  tired  of  Girlie's  companionship. 

"  She's  such  a  baby,"  she  said  to  herself,  impa- 
tiently. "  She  doesn't  know  much  more  than  a 
kitten."  It  seemed  to  her  that  the  third  long  hour 
never  would  drag  to  an  end.  But  Girlie  evidently 
enjoyed  it.  When  the  carriage  came  to  take  her 
home,  she  said,  enthusiastically: 

"  I've  had  such  a  good  time  this  morning  that  I'm 
coming  over  every  single  day  while  you're  here. 
I  can't  ask  you  over  to  our  house  'cause  my 
grandma  is  so  sick  it  wouldn't  be  any  fun.  We  just 
have  to  tiptoe  around  and  not  laugh  out  loud.  But 
I  don't  mind  doing  all  the  visiting." 

"Oh,  it  will  spoil  everything!"  groaned  Mary 
to  herself,  as  she  ran  up-stairs  when  Girlie  was  at 
last  out  of  sight.  She  felt  that  nothing  could  com- 


THE  FOX  AND    THE   STORK  J? 

pensate  her  for  the  loss  of  the  whole  morning,  and 
the  thought  of  losing  any  more  precious  time  in 
that  way  was  unendurable. 

Mrs.  Sherman  met  her  in  the  hall,  and  pinched 
her  cheek  playfully  as  she  passed  her.  "  You  make 
a  charming  little  hostess,  my  dear,"  she  said.  "  I 
looked  out  several  times,  and  you  were  so  absorbed 
with  your  play  that  it  made  me  wish  that  I  could 
be  a  little  girl  again,  and  join  you  with  my  poor 
old  Nancy  Blanche  doll  and  my  grand  Amanthis 
that  papa  brought  me  from  New  Orleans.  I'll  have 
to  resurrect  them  for  you  out  of  the  attic,  for  I'm 
afraid  it  has  been  stupid  for  you  here,  with  nobody 
your  own  age." 

"  Oh,  no'm !  Don't !  Please  don't !  "  protested 
Mary,  a  worried  look  on  her  honest  little  face.  She 
was  about  to  add,  "  I  can't  bear  dolls  any  more. 
I  only  played  with  them  to  please  Girlie,"  when 
Lloyd  came  out  of  her  room  with  a  letter. 

"  It's  from  the  bride-to-be,  mothah,"  she  called, 
waving  it  gaily. 

"  She'll  be  heah  day  aftah  to-morrow,  so  we  can 
begin  to  put  the  finishing  touches  to  her  room.  The 
day  she  comes  I'm  going  to  take  the  girls  ovah  to 
Rollington  to  get  some  long  sprays  of  bride's 
wreath.  Mrs.  Crisp  has  two  big  bushes  of  it,  white 


78       THE  LITTLE   COLONEL:   MAID   OF  HONOR 

as  snow.  It  will  look  so  cool  and  lovely,  everything 
in  the  room  all  green  and  white." 

Mary  stole  away  to  her  room,  ready  to  cry.  If 
every  morning  had  to  be  spent  with  that  tiresome 
Dinsmore  child,  she  might  as  well  have  stayed  on 
the  desert. 

"  I  simply  have  to  get  rid  of  her  in  some  way," 
she  mused.  "  It  won't  do  to  snub  her,  and  I  don't 
know  any  other  way.  I  wish  I  could  see  Holland 
for  about  five  minutes.  He'd  think  of  a  plan." 

So  absorbed  was  she  in  her  problem  that  she 
forgot  to  ask  whether  the  kid  or  the  satin  slippers 
had  been  chosen,  and  she  went  down  to  lunch  still 
revolving  her  trouble  in  her  mind.  On  the  dining- 
room  wall  opposite  her  place  at  table  were  two  fine 
old  engravings,  illustrating  the  fable  of  the  famous 
dinners  given  by  the  Fox  and  the  Stork.  In  the 
first  the  stork  strove  vainly  to  fill  its  bill  at  the  flat 
dish  from  which  the  fox  lapped  eagerly,  while  in 
the  companion  picture  the  fox  sat  by  disconsolate 
while  the  stork  dipped  into  the  high  slim  pitcher, 
which  the  hungry  guest  could  not  reach. 

Mary  had  noticed  the  pictures  in  a  casual  way 
every  time  she  took  a  seat  at  the  table,  for  the  beast 
and  the  bird  were  old  acquaintances.  She  had 
learned  La  Fontaine's  version  of  the  fable  one  time 


THE   FOX  AND    THE  STORK  79 

to  recite  at  school.  To-day,  with  the  problem  in 
her  mind  of  how  to  rid  herself  of  an  unwelcome 
guest,  they  suddenly  took  on  a  new  meaning. 

"  I'll  do  just  the  way  the  stork  did,"  she  thought, 
gleefully.  "  This  morning  Girlie  had  everything 
her  way,  and  we  played  little  silly  baby  games  till 
I  felt  as  flat  as  the  dish  that  fox  is  eating  out  of. 
But  she  had  a  beautiful  time.  To-morrow  morning 
I'm  going  to  be  stork,  and  make  my  conversation 
so  deep  she  can't  get  her  little  baby  mind  into  it 
at  all.  I'll  be  awfully  polite,  but  I'll  hunt  up  the 
longest  words  I  can  find  in  the  dictionary,  and  talk 
about  the  books  I've  read,  and  she'll  have  such  a 
stupid  time  she  won't  want  to  come  again." 

The  course  of  action  once  settled  upon,  Mary 
fell  to  work  with  her  usual  energy.  While  the 
girls  were  taking  their  daily  siesta,  she  dressed 
early  and  went  down  into  the  library.  If  it  had 
not  been  for  the  fear  of  missing  something,  she 
would  have  spent  much  of  her  time  in  that  attract- 
ive room.  Books  looked  down  so  invitingly  from 
the  many  shelves.  All  the  June  magazines  lay  on 
the  library  table,  their  pages  still  uncut.  Every- 
body had  been  too  busy  to  look  at  them.  She  hesi- 
tated a  moment  over  the  tempting  array,  but  re- 


8O      THE  LITTLE   COLONEL:   MAID   OF  HONOR 

rnembering  her  purpose,  grimly  passed  them  by 
and  opened  the  big  dictionary. 

Rob  found  her  still  poring  over  it,  pencil  and 
paper  in  hand,  when  he  looked  into  the  room  an 
hour  later. 

"  What's  up  now?  "  he  asked. 

She  evaded  his  question  at  first,  but,  afraid  that 
he  would  tease  her  before  the  girls  about  her  thirst 
for  knowledge  and  her  study  of  the  dictionary, 
and  that  that  might  lead  to  the  thwarting  of  her 
plans,  she  suddenly  decided  to  take  him  into  her 
confidence. 

"  Well,"  she  began,  solemnly,  "  you  know  mostly 
I  loathe  dolls.  Sometimes  I  do  dress  Hazel  Lee's 
for  her,  but  I  don't  like  to  play  with  them  regu- 
larly any  more  as  I  used  to,  —  talk  for  them  and 
all  that.  But  Girlie  Dinsmore  was  here  this  morn- 
ing, and  I  had  to  do  it  because  she  is  company. 
She  had  such  a  good  time  that  she  said  she  was 
coming  over  here  every  single  morning  while  I'm 
here.  I  just  can't  have  my  lovely  visit  spoiled  that 
way.  The  bride  is  coming  day  after  to-morrow, 
and  she'll  be  opening  her  presents  and  showing  her 
trousseau  to  the  girls,  and  I  wouldn't  miss  it  for 
anything.  So  I've  made  up  my  mind  I'll  be  just 
as  polite  as  possible,  but  I'll  do  as  the  stork  did 


THE  FOX  AND   THE  STORK  8 1 

in  the  fable;  make  my  entertainment  so  deep  she 
won't  enjoy  it.  I'm  hunting  up  the  longest  words 
I  can  find  and  learning  their  definitions,  so  that  I 
can  use  them  properly." 

Rob,  looking  over  her  shoulder,  laughed  to  see 
the  list  she  had  chosen : 

11  Indefatigability, 
Juxtaposition, 
Loquaciousness, 
Pabulum, 
Peregrinate, 
Longevous." 

"  You  see,"  explained  Mary,  "  sometimes  there  is 
a  quotation  after  the  word  from  some  author,  so 
I've  copied  a  lot  of  them  to  use,  instead  of  making 
up  sentences  myself.  Here's  one  from  Shakespeare 
about  alacrity.  And  here's  one  from  Arbuthnot, 
whoever  he  was,  that  will  make  her  stare." 

She  traced  the  sentence  with  her  forefinger,  for 
Rob's  glance  to  follow:  "Instances  of  longevity 
are  chiefly  among  the  abstemious" 

"  Girlie  won't  have  any  more  idea  of  what  I'm 
talking  about  than  a  jay-bird." 

To  Mary's  astonishment,  the  laugh  with  which 
Rob  received  her  confidence  was  so  long  and  loud 
it  ended  in  a  whoop  of  amusement,  and  when  he 


82   THE  LITTLE  COLONEL:  MAID  OF  HONOR 

had  caught  his  breath  he  began  again  in  such  an 
infectious  way  that  the  girls  up-stairs  heard  it  and 
joined  in.  Then  Lloyd  leaned  over  the  banister 
to  call : 

"  What's  the  mattah,  Rob?  You  all  seem  to  be 
having  a  mighty  funny  time  down  there.  Save 
your  circus  for  us.  We'll  be  down  in  a  few  min- 
utes." 

"  This  is  just  a  little  private  side-show  of  Mary's 
and  mine,"  answered  Rob,  going  off  into  another 
peal  of  laughter  at  sight  of  Mary's  solemn  face. 
There  was  nothing  funny  in  the  situation  to  her 
whatsoever. 

"Oh,  don't  tell,  Mister  Rob,"  she  begged. 
"  Please  don't  tell.  Joyce  might  think  it  was  im- 
polite, and  would  put  a  stop  to  it.  It  seems  funny 
to  you,  but  when  you  think  of  my  whole  lovely 
visit  spoiled  that  way  —  " 

She  stopped  abruptly,  so  much  in  earnest  that 
her  voice  broke  and  her  eyes  filled  with  tears. 

Instantly  Rob's  laughter  ceased,  and  he  begged 
her  pardon  in  such  a  grave,  kind  way,  assuring  her 
that  her  confidence  should  be  respected,  that  her 
admiration  of  him  went  up  several  more  degrees. 
When  the  girls  came  down,  he  could  not  be  pre- 
vailed upon  to  tell  them  what  had  sent  him  off  into 


THE  FOX  AND   THE  STORK  83 

such  fits  of  laughter.  "  Just  Mary's  entertaining 
remarks,"  was  all  he  would  say,  looking  across  at 
her  with  a  meaning  twinkle  in  his  eyes.  She  imme- 
diately retired  into  the  background  as  soon  as  the 
older  girls  appeared,  but  she  sat  admiring  every 
word  Rob  said,  and  watching  every  movement. 

"  He's  the  very  nicest  man  I  ever  saw,"  she  said 
to  herself.  "  He  treats  me  as  if  I  were  grown  up, 
and  I  really  believe  he  likes  to  hear  me  talk." 

Once  when  they  were  arranging  for  a  tennis 
game  for  the  next  morning,  he  crossed  the  room 
with  an  amused  smile,  to  say  to  her  in  a  low  aside : 
"  I've  thought  of  something  to  help  along  the 
stork's  cause.  Bring  the  little  fox  over  to  the  ten- 
nis-court to  watch  the  game.  If  she  doesn't  find 
that  sufficiently  stupid,  and  you  run  short  of  big 
words,  read  aloud  to  her,  and  tell  her  that  is  what 
you  intend  to  do  every  day." 

Such  a  pleased,  gratified  smile  flashed  over 
Mary's  face  that  Betty  exclaimed,  curiously :  "  I 
certainly  would  like  to  know  what  mischief  you 
two  are  planning.  You  laugh  every  time  you  look 
at  each  other." 

Girlie  Dinsmore  arrived  promptly  next  morning, 
trunk,  doll,  and  all,  expecting  to  plunge  at  once  into 
an  absorbing  game  of  lady-come-to-see.  But  Mary 


84      THE  LITTLE   COLONEL:  MAID   OF  HONOR 

so  impressed  her  with  the  honor  that  had  been  con- 
ferred upon  them  by  Mr.  Moore's  special  invitation 
to  watch  the  tennis,  game  that  she  was  somewhat 
bewildered.  She  dutifully  followed  her  resolute 
hostess  to  the  tennis-court,  and  took  a  seat  beside 
her  with  Evangeline  clasped  in  her  arms.  Neither 
of  the  children  had  watched  a  game  before,  and 
Girlie,  not  being  able  to  understand  a  single  move, 
soon  found  it  insufferably  stupid.  But  Mary  be- 
came more  and  more  interested  in  watching  a  tall, 
athletic  figure  in  outing  flannels  and  white  shoes, 
who  swung  his  racket  with  the  deftness  of  an  ex- 
pert, and  who  flashed  an  amused  smile  at  her  over 
the  net  occasionally,  as  if  he  understood  the  situa- 
tfon  and  was  enjoying  it  with  her. 

Several  times  when  Rob's  playing  brought  him 
near  the  seat  where  the  two  children  sat,  he  went 
into  unaccountable  roars  of  laughter,  for  which  the 
amazed  girls  scolded  him  soundly,  when  he  refused 
to  explain.  One  time  was  when  he  overheard  a 
scrap  of  conversation.  Girlie  had  suggested  a  re- 
turn to  the  porch  and  the  play-house,  and  Mary 
responded,  graciously: 

"  Oh,  we  did  all  that  yesterday  morning,  and  I 
think  that  even  in  the  matter  of  playing  dolls  one 
ought  to  be  abstemious.  Don't  you?  You  know 


A   TALL,    ATHLETIC    FIGURE    IN   OUTING   FLANNELS 


THE   FOX  AND    THE  STORK  8$ 

Arbuthnot  says  that  *  instances  of  longevity  are 
chiefly  among  the  abstemious,'  and  I  certainly  want 
to  be  longevous." 

A  startled  expression  crept  into  Girlie's  pale  blue 
eyes,  but  she  only  sat  back  farther  on  the  seat  and 
tightened  her  clasp  on  Evangeline.  The  next  time 
Rob  sauntered  within  hearing  distance,  a  discus- 
sion of  literature  was  in  progress,  Mary  was  asking : 

"  Have  you  ever  read  '  Old  Curiosity  Shop  ?  ' ' 

The  flaxen  curls  shook  slowly  in  the  motion  that 
betokened  she  had  not. 

"  Nothing  of  Dickens  or  Scott  or  Irving  or 
Cooper?" 

Still  the  flaxen  curls  shook  nothing  but  no. 

"  Then  what  have  you  read,  may  I  ask  ?  "  The 
superior  tone  of  Mary's  question  made  it  seem  that 
she  was  twenty  years  older  than  the  child  at  her 
side,  instead  of  only  two. 

"I  like  the  Dotty  Dimple  books,"  finally  ad- 
mitted Girlie.  "  Mamma  read  me  all  of  them  and 
several  of  the  Prudy  books,  and  I  have  read  half 
of  '  Flaxie  Frizzle  '  my  own  self." 

"Oh!"  exclaimed  Mary,  in  a  tone  expressing 
enlightenment.  "  I  see!  Nothing  but  juvenile 
books!  No  wonder  that,  with  such  mental  pab- 
ulum, you  don't  care  for  anything  but  dolls !  Now 


86      THE  LITTLE   COLONEL:  MAID   OF  HONOR 

when  I  was  your  age,  I  had  read  '  The  Vicar  of 
Wakefield  '  and  '  Pride  and  Prejudice  '  and  Leather- 
stocking  Tales,  and  all  sorts  of  things.  Probably 
that  is  why  I  lost  my  taste  for  dolls  so  early. 
Wouldn't  you  like  me  to  read  to  you  awhile  every 
morning?" 

The  offer  was  graciousness  itself,  but  it  implied 
such  a  lack  on  Girlie's  part  that  she  felt  vaguely 
uncomfortable.  She  sat  digging  the  toe  of  her  slip- 
per against  the  leg  of  the  bench. 

"  I  don't  know,"  she  stammered  finally.  "  Maybe 
I  can't  come  often.  It  makes  me  wigglesome  to 
sit  still  too  long  and  listen." 

"  We  might  try  it  this  morning  to  see  how  you 
like  it,"  persisted  Mary.  "  I  brought  a  copy  of 
Longfellow  out  from  the  house,  and  thought  you 
mig-ht  like  to  hear  the  poem  of  '  Evangeline,'  as 
long  as  your  doll  is  named  that." 

Rob  heard  no  more,  for  the  game  called  him  to 
another  part  of  the  court,  but  Mary's  plan  was  a 
success.  When  the  Dinsmore  carriage  came,  Girlie 
announced  that  she  wouldn't  be  over  the  next  day, 
and  maybe  not  the  one  after  that.  She  didn't  know 
for  sure  when  she  could  come. 

Rob  stayed  to  lunch.  As  he  passed  Mary  on  the 
tteps,  he  stooped  to  the  level  of  her  ear  to  say  in 


THE  FOX  AND    THE  STORK  8/ 

a  laughing  undertone :  "  Congratulations,  Miss 
Stork.  I  see  your  plan  worked  grandly." 

Elated  by  her  success  and  the  feeling  of  good- 
comradeship  which  this  little  secret  with  Rob  gave 
her,  Mary  skipped  up  on  to  the  porch,  well  pleased 
with  herself.  But  the  next  instant  there  was  a  curi- 
ous change  in  her  feeling.  Lloyd,  tall  and  grace- 
ful in  her  becoming  tennis  suit,  was  standing  on 
the  steps  taking  leave  of  some  of  the  players.  With 
hospitable  insistence  she  was  urging  them  to  stay 
to  lunch,  and  there  was  something  in  the  sweet 
graciousness  of  the  young  hostess  that  made  Mary 
uncomfortable.  She  felt  that  she  had  been  weighed 
in  the  balance  and  found  wanting.  The  Princess 
never  would  have  stooped  to  treat  a  guest  as  she 
had  treated  Girlie.  Her  standard  of  hospitality 
was  too  high  to  allow  such  a  breach  of  hospitality. 

Mary  had  carried  her  point,  but  she  felt  that  if 
Lloyd  knew  how  she  had  played  stork,  she  would 
consider  her  ill-bred.  The  thought  worried  her  for 
days. 


CHAPTER   VIL 

THE   COMING   OF   THE   BRIDE 

EARLY  in  the  June  morning  Mary  awoke,  feel- 
ing as  if  it  were  Christmas  or  Fourth  of  July  or 
some  great  gala  occasion.  She  lay  there  a  moment, 
trying  to  think  what  pleasant  thing  was  about  to 
happen.  Then  she  remembered  that  it  was  the  day 
on  which  the  bride  was  to  arrive.  Not  only  that, 
—  before  the  sun  went  down,  the  best  man  would 
be  at  The  Locusts  also. 

She  raised  herself  on  her  elbow  to  look  at  Joyce, 
in  the  white  bed  across  from  hers.  She  was  sound 
asleep,  so  Mary  snuggled  down  on  her  pillow  again, 
and  lay  quite  still.  If  Joyce  had  been  awake,  Mary 
would  have  begun  a  long  conversation  about  Phil 
Tremont.  Instead,  she  began  recalling  to  herself 
the  last  time  she  had  seen  him.  It  was  three  years 
ago,  down  by  the  beehives,  and  she  had  had  no 
idea  he  was  going  away  until  he  came  to  the  Wig- 
wam to  bid  them  all  good-by.  And  Joyce  and 
Lloyd  were  away,  so  he  had  left  a  message  for 


THE  COMING  OF  THE  BRIDE        89 

them  with  her.  She  thought  it  queer  then,  and 
she  had  wondered  many  times  since  why  his  fare- 
well to  the  girls  should  have  been  a  message  about 
the  old  gambling  god,  Alaka.  She  remembered 
every  word  of  it,  even  the  tones  of  his  voice  as  he 
said :  "  Try  to  remember  just  these  words,  please, 
Mary.  Tell  them  that  '  Alaka  has  lost  his  precious 
turquoises,  but  he  will  win  them  back  again  some 
day'  Can  you  remember  to  say  just  that  ?  " 

He  must  have  thought  she  wasn't  much  more 
than  a  baby  to  repeat  it  so  carefully  to  her  several 
times,  as  if  he  were  teaching  her  a  lesson.  Well, 
to  be  sure,  she  was  only  eleven  then,  and  she  had 
almost  cried  when  she  begged  him  not  to  go  away, 
and  insisted  on  knowing  when  he  was  coming  back. 
He  had  looked  away  toward  old  Camelback 
Mountain  with  a  strange,  sorry  look  on  his  face 
as  he  answered : 

"  Not  till  I've  learned  your  lesson  —  to  be  '  in- 
flexible.' When  I'm  strong  enough  to  keep  stiff 
in  the  face  of  any  temptation,  then  I'll  come  back, 
little  Vicar."  Then  he  had  stooped  and  kissed  her 
hastily  on  both  cheeks,  and  started  off  down  the 
road,  with  her  watching  him  through  a  blur  of 
tears,  because  it  seemed  that  all  the  good  times  in 
the  world  had  suddenly  come  to  an  end.  Away 


90       THE  LITTLE    COLONEL:  MAID    OF  HONOR 

down  the  road  he  had  turned  to  look  back  and 
wave  his  hat,  and  she  had  caught  up  her  white 
sunbonnet  and  swung  it  high  by  its  one  limp 
string. 

Afterward,  when  she  went  back  to  the  swing  by 
the  beehives,  she  recalled  all  the  old  stories  she 
had  ever  heard  of  knights  who  went  out  into  the 
world  to  seek  their  fortunes,  and  waved  farewell 
to  some  ladye  fair  in  her  watch-tower.  She  felt, 
in  a  vague  way,  that  she  had  been  bidden  farewell 
by  a  brave  knight  errant.  Although  she  was  burn- 
ing with  curiosity  when  she  delivered  the  message 
about  the  turquoises  and  Alaka,  and  wondered  why 
Lloyd  and  Joyce  exchanged  such  meaning  glances, 
something  kept  her  from  asking  questions,  and  she 
had  gone  on  wondering  all  these  years  what  it 
meant,  and  why  there  was  such  a  sorry  look  in  his 
eyes  when  he  gazed  out  toward  the  old  Camelback 
Mountain.  Now,  in  the  wisdom  of  her  fourteen 
years,  she  began  to  suspect  what  the  trouble  had 
been,  and  resolved  to  ask  Joyce  for  the  solution  of 
the  mystery. 

Now  that  Phil  was  twenty  years  old  and  doing  a 
man's  work  in  the  world,  she  supposed  she  ought 
to  call  him  Mr.  Tremont,  or,  at  least,  Mr,  Phil. 
Probably  in  his  travels,  with  all  the  important 


THE   COMING   OF   THE  BRIDE  9! 

things  that  a  civil  engineer  has  to  think  of,  he  had 
forgotten  her  and  the  way  he  had  romped  with  her 
at  the  Wigwam,  and  how  he  had  saved  her  life 
the  time  the  Indian  chased  her.  Being  the  bride- 
groom's brother  and  best  man  at  the  wedding,  he 
would  scarcely  notice  her.  Or,  if  he  did  cast  a 
glance  in  her  direction,  she  had  grown  so  much 
probably  he  never  would  recognize  her.  Still,  if 
he  should  remember  her,  she  wanted  to  appear  at 
her  best  advantage,  and  she  began  considering 
what  was  the  best  her  wardrobe  afforded. 

She  lay  there  some  time  trying  to  decide  whether 
she  should  be  all  in  white  when  she  met  him, 
or  in  the  dress  with  the  little  sprigs  of  forget-me- 
nots  sprinkled  over  it.  White  was  appropriate  for 
all  occasions,  still  the  forget-me-nots  would  be  sug- 
gestive. Then  she  remembered  her  mother's  re- 
mark about  that  shade  of  blue  being  a  trying  one 
for  her  to  wear.  That  recalled  Mom  Beck's  pre- 
scription for  beautifying  the  complexion.  Noth- 
ing, so  the  old  colored  woman  declared,  was  so 
good  for  one's  face  as  washing  it  in  dew  before  the 
sun  had  touched  the  grass,  at  the  same  time  repeat- 
ing a  hoodoo  rhyme.  Mary  had  been  intending  to 
try  it,  but  never  could  waken  early  enough. 

Now  it  was  only  a  little  after  five.     Slipping  out 


92       THE  LITTLE    COLONEL :  MAID    OF  HONOR 

of  bed,  she  drew  aside  the  curtain.  Smoke  was 
rising  from  the  chimney  down  in  the  servants' 
quarters,  and  the  sun  was  streaming  red  across  the 
lawn.  But  over  by  the  side  of  the  house,  in  the 
shadow  of  Hero's  monument,  the  dew  lay  spark- 
ling like  diamonds  on  the  daisies  and  clover  that 
bloomed  there  —  the  only  place  on  the  lawn  where 
the  sun  had  not  yet  touched. 

Thrusting  her  bare  feet  into  the  little  red  Turk- 
ish slippers  beside  her  bed,  Mary  caught  up  her 
kimono  lying  over  a  chair.  It  was  a  long,  Oriental 
affair,  Cousin  Kate's  Christmas  gift;  a  mixture  of 
gay  colors  and  a  pattern  of  Japanese  fans,  and  so 
beautiful  in  Mary's  eyes  that  she  had  often  be- 
moaned the  fact  that  she  was  not  a  Japanese  lady 
so  that  she  could  wear  the  gorgeous  garment  in 
public.  It  seemed  too  beautiful  to  be  wasted  on 
the  privacy  of  her  room. 

Fastening  it  together  with  three  of  Joyce's  little 
gold  pins,  she  stole  down  the  stairway.  Mom 
Beck  was  busy  in  the  dining-room,  and  the  doors 
and  windows  stood  open.  Stepping  out  of  one  of 
the  long  French  windows  that  opened  on  the  side 
porch,  Mary  ran  across  to  the  monument.  It  was 
a  glorious  June  morning.  The  myriads  of  roses 
were  doubly  sweet  with  the  dew  in  their  hearts. 


THE  COMING  OF  THE  BRIDE        93 

A  Kentucky  cardinal  flashed  across  the  lawn  ahead 
of  her,  darting  from  one  locust-tree  to  another  like 
a  bit  of  live  flame. 

The  little  red  Turkish  slippers  chased  lightly 
over  the  grass  till  they  reached  the  shadow  of  the 
monument.  Then  stooping,  Mary  passed  her 
hands  over  the  daisies  and  clover,  catching  up  the 
dewdrops  in  her  pink  palms,  and  rubbing  them  over 
her  face  as  she  repeated  Mom  Beck's  charm: 

"  Beauty  come,  freckles  go ! 
Dewdops,  make  me  white  as  snow !  " 

The  dew  on  her  face  felt  so  cool  and  fresh  that 
she  tried  it  again,  then  several  times  more.  Then 
she  stooped  over  farther  and  buried  her  face  in  the 
wet  grass,  repeating  the  rhyme  again  with  her  eyes 
shut  and  in  the  singsong  chant  in  which  she  often 
intoned  things,  without  giving  heed  to  what  she 
was  uttering.  Suddenly,  in  the  midst  of  this  joy- 
ful abandon,  an  amused  exclamation  made  her  lift 
her  head  a  little  and  open  her  eyes. 

"  By  all  the  powers !  What  are  you  up  to  now, 
Miss  Stork?" 

Mary's"  head  came  up  out  of  the  wet  grass  with 
a  jerk.  Then  her  face  burned  an  embarrassed 
crimson,  for  striding  along  the  path  toward  her 


94   THE  LITTLE  COLONEL:  MAID  OF  HONOR 

was  Bob  Moore,  cutting  across  lots  from  Oaklea. 
He  was  bareheaded,  and  swinging  along  as  if  it 
were  a  pleasure  merely  to  be  alive  on  such  a 
morning. 

She  sprang  to  her  feet,  so  mortified  at  being 
caught  in  this  secret  quest  for  beauty  that  her  em- 
barrassment left  her  speechless.  Then,  remember- 
ing the  way  she  was  dressed,  she  sank  down  on 
the  grass  again,  and  pulled  her  kimono  as  far  as 
possible  over  the  little  bare  feet  in  the  red  slip- 
pers. 

There  was  no  need  for  her  to  answer  his  ques- 
tion. The  rhyme  she  had  been  chanting  was  suffi- 
cient explanation. 

"  I  thought  you  said,"  he  began,  teasingly,  "  that 
you  were  to  have  your  innings  when  you  were  a 
grandmother;  that  you  didn't  care  for  beauty  now 
if  you  could  have  a  face  like  a  benediction  then." 

"  Oh,  I  didn't  say  that  I  didn't  care !  "  cried 
Mary,  crouching  closer  against  the  monument,  and 
putting  her  arm  across  her  face  to  hide  it.  "  It's 
because  I  care  so  much  that  I'm  always  doing  silly 
things  and  getting  caught.  I  just  wish  the  earth 
could  open  and  swallow  me!  "  she  wailed. 

Her  head  was  bowed  now  till  it  was  resting  on 
her  knees.  Rob  looked  down  on  the  little  bunch  of 


THE   COMING   OF  THE  BRIDE  95 

misery  in  the  gay  kimono,  thinking  he  had  never 
seen  such  a  picture  of  woe.  He  could  not  help 
smiling,  but  he  felt  mean  at  having  been  the  cause 
of  her  distress,  and  tried  to  think  of  something 
comforting  to  say. 

"  Sakes  alive,  child !  That's  nothing  to  feel  bad 
about.  Bathing  your  face  in  May-day  dew  is  an 
old  English  custom  that  the  prettiest  girls  in  the 
Kingdom  used  to  follow.  I  ought  to  apologize  for 
intruding,  but  I  didn't  suppose  any  one  was  up.  I 
just  came  over  to  say  that  some  business  for  grand- 
father will  take  me  to  town  on  the  earliest  train, 
so  that  I  can't  be  on  hand  when  the  best  man 
arrives.  I  didn't  want  to  wake  up  the  entire  house- 
hold by  telephoning,  so  I  thought  I'd  step  over  and 
leave  a  message  with  Alec  or  some  of  them.  If 
you'll  tell  Lloyd,  I'll  be  much  obliged." 

"  All  right,  I'll  tell  her,"  answered  Mary,  in 
muffled  tones,  without  raising  her  head  from  her 
knees.  She  was  battling  back  the  tears,  and  felt 
that  she  could  never  face  the  world  again.  She 
waited  till  she  was  sure  Rob  was  out  of  sight,  and 
then,  springing  up,  ran  for  the  shelter  of  her  room. 
As  she  stole  up  the  stairs,  her  eyes  were  so  blinded 
with  tears  that  she  could  hardly  see  the  steps;  tears 
of  humiliation,  that  Rob,  of  all  people,  whose  good 


96   THE  LITTLE  COLONEL :  MAID  OF  HONOR 

opinion  she  valued,  should  have  discovered  her  in 
a  situation  that  made  her  appear  silly  and  vain. 

Luckily  for  the  child's  peace  of  mind,  Betty  had 
also  wakened  early  that  morning,  and  was  taking 
advantage  of  the  quiet  hours  before  breakfast  to 
attend  to  her  letter-writing.  Through  her  open 
door  she  caught  sight  of  the  woebegone  little  figure 
slipping  past,  and  the  next  instant  Mary  found 
herself  in  the  white  and  gold  room  with  Betty's 
arm  around  her,  and  her  tearful  face  pressed 
against  a  sympathetic  shoulder.  Little  by  little 
Betty  coaxed  from  her  the  cause  of  her  tears,  then 
sat  silent,  patting  her  hand,  as  she  wondered  what 
she  could  say  to  console  her. 

To  the  older  girl  it  seemed  a  matter  to  smile 
over,  and  the  corners  of  her  mouth  did  dimple  a 
little,  until  she  realized  that  to  Mary's  supersensi- 
tive  nature  this  was  no  trifle,  and  that  she  was  suf- 
fering keenly  from  it. 

"  Oh,  I'm  so  ashamed,"  sobbed  Mary.  "  I  never 
want  to  look  Mister  Rob  in  the  face  again.  I'd 
rather  go  home  and  miss  the  wedding  than  meet 
him  any  more." 

"  Nonsense,"  said  Betty,  lightly.  "  Now  you're 
making  a  mountain  out  of  a  mole-hill.  Probably 
Rob  will  never  give  the  matter  a  second  thought, 


THE  COMING  OF  THE  BRIDE        97 

and  he  would  be  amazed  if  he  thought  you  did. 
I've  heard  you  say  you  wished  you  could  be  just 
like  Lloyd.  Do  you  know,  her  greatest  charm  to 
me  is  that  she  never  seems  to  think  of  the  impres- 
sion she  is  making  on  other  people.  Now,  if  she 
should  decide  that  her  complexion  would  be  better 
for  a  wash  in  the  dew,  she  would  go  ahead  and 
wash  it,  no  matter  who  caught  her  at  it,  and,  first 
thing  you  know,  all  the  Valley  would  be  following 
her  example. 

"  I'm  going  to  preach  you  a  little  sermon  now, 
because  I've  found  out  your  one  fault.  It  isn't 
very  big  yet,  but,  if  you  don't  nip  it  in  the  bud,  it 
will  be  like  Meddlesome  Matty's,  — 

"  <  Which,  like  a  cloud  before  the  skies, 
Hid  all  her  better  qualities.' 

"  You  are  self-conscious,  Mary.  Always  think- 
ing about  the  impression  you  are  making  on  people, 
and  so  eager  to  please  that  it  makes  you  miserable 
if  you  think  you  fall  short  of  any  of  their  stand- 
ards. I  knew  a  girl  at  school  who  let  her  sensi- 
tiveness to  other  people's  opinions  run  away  with 
her.  She  was  so  anxious  for  her  friends  to  be 
pleased  with  her  that  she  couldn't  be  natural.  If 
anybody  glanced  in  the  direction  of  her  head,  she 


98   THE  LITTLE  COLONEL:  MAID  OF  HONOR 

immediately  began  to  fix  her  side-combs,  or  if  they 
seemed  to  be  noticing  her  dress,  she  felt  her  belt 
and  looked  down  at  herself  to  see  if  anything  was 
wrong.  Half  the  time  they  were  not  looking  at 
her  at  all,  and  not  even  giving  her  a  thought.  And 
I've  known  her  to  agonize  for  days  over  some  trifle, 
some  remark  she  had  made  or  some  one  had  made 
to  her,  that  every  one  but  her  had  forgotten.  She 
developed  into  a  dreadful  bore,  because  she  never 
could  forget  herself,  and  was  always  looking  at 
her  affairs  through  a  magnifying-glass. 

"  Now  if  you  should  keep  out  of  Rob's  way 
after  this,  and  act  as  if  you  had  done  something 
to  be  ashamed  of,  which  you  have  not,  don't  you 
see  that  your  very  actions  would  remind  him  of 
what  you  want  him  to  forget?  But  if  when  you 
meet  him  you  are  your  own  bright,  cheerful, 
friendly  little  self,  this  morning's  scene  will  fade 
into  a  dim  background." 

Only  half-convinced,  Mary  nodded  that  she 
understood,  but  still  proceeded  to  wipe  her  eyes 
at  intervals. 

"  Then,  there's  another  thing,"  continued  Betty. 
"  If  you  sit  and  brood  over  your  mortification,  it 
will  spread  all  over  your  sky  like  a  black  cloud, 
till  it  will  seem  bigger  than  any  of  the  good  times 


THE  COMING  OF  THE  BRIDE        99 

you  have  had.  In  the  dear  old  garden  at  Warwick 
Hall  there  is  a  sun-dial  that  has  this  inscription  on 
it,  '  I  only  mark  the  hours  that  shine.'  So  I  am 
going  to  give  you  that  as  a  text.  Now,  dear,  that  is 
the  end  of  my  sermon,  but  here  is  the  application." 

She  pointed  to  a  row  of  little  white  books  on  the 
shelf  above  her  desk,  all  bound  in  kid,  with  her 
initials  stamped  on  the  back  in  gold.  "  Those  are 
my  good-times  books.  *  I  only  mark  the  hours  that 
shine '  in  them,  and  when  things  go  wrong  and 
I  get  discouraged  over  my  mistakes,  I  glance 
through  them  and  find  that  there's  lots  more  to 
laugh  over  than  cry  about,  and  I'm  going  to  recom- 
mend the  same  course  to  you.  Godmother  gave 
me  the  first  volume  when  I  came  to  the  first  house- 
party,  and  the  little  record  gave  me  so  much  pleas- 
ure that  I've  gone  on  adding  volume  after  volume. 
Suppose  you  try  it,  dear.  Will  you,  if  I  give  you 
a  book?" 

"  Yes,"  answered  Mary,  who  had  heard  of  these 
books  before,  and  longed  for  a  peep  into  them. 
She  had  her  wish  now,  for,  taking  them  down 
from  the  shelf,  Betty  read  an  extract  here  and  there, 
to  illustrate  what  she  meant.  Presently,  to  their 
astonishment,  they  heard  Mom  Beck  knocking  at 
Lloyd's  door  to  awaken  her,  and  Betty  realized  with 


100    THE  LITTLE   COLONEL-  MAID   OF  HONOR 

a  start  that  she  had  been  reading  over  an  hour. 
Her  letters  were  unanswered,  but  she  had  accom- 
plished something  better.  Mary's  tears  had  dried, 
as  she  listened  to  these  accounts  of  their  frolics 
at  boarding-school  and  their  adventures  abroad, 
and  in  her  interest  in  them  her  own  affairs  had 
taken  their  proper  proportion.  She  was  no  longer 
heart-broken  over  having  been  discovered  by  Rob, 
and  she  was  determined  to  overcome  the  sensitive- 
ness and  self-consciousness  which  Betty  had  pointed 
out  as  her  great  fault. 

As  she  rose  to  go,  Betty  opened  a  drawer  in  her 
desk  and  took  out  a  square,  fat  diary,  bound  in 
red  morocco.  "  One  of  the  girls  gave  me  this  last 
Christmas,"  she  said.  "  I  never  have  used  it,  be- 
cause I  want  to  keep  my  journals  uniform  in  size 
and  binding,  and  I'll  be  so  glad  to  have  you  take 
it  and  start  a  record  of  your  own,  if  you  will." 

"  Oh,  I'll  begin  this  very  morning !  "  cried  Mary, 
in  delight,  throwing  her  arms  around  Betty's  neck 
with  an  impulsive  kiss,  and  trying  to  express  her 
thanks. 

"  Then  wait  till  I  write  my  text  in  it,"  said  Betty, 
"  so  that  it  will  always  recall  my  sermon.  I've 
talked  to  you  as  if  I  were  your  grandmother, 
haven't  I?" 


THE  COMING   OF  THE  BRIDE  IOI 

"  You've  made  me  feel  a  lot  more  comfortable," 
answered  Mary,  humbly,  with  another  kiss  as  Betty 
handed  her  the  book.  On  the  fly-leaf  she  had  writ- 
ten her  own  name  and  Mary's  and  the  inscription 
borne  by  the  old  sun-dial  in  Warwick  Hall  garden : 

"  /  only  mark  the  hours  that  shine." 

It  was  after  lunch  before  Mary  found  a  moment 
in  which  to  begin  her  record,  and  then  it  was  in 
unconscious  imitation  of  Betty's  style  that  she  wrote 
the  events  of  the  morning.  Probably  she  would 
not  have  gone  into  details  and  copied  whole  con- 
versations if  she  had  not  heard  the  extracts  from 
Betty's  diaries.  Betty  was  writing  for  practice  as 
well  as  with  the  purpose  of  storing  away  pleasant 
memories,  so  it  was  often  with  the  spirit  of  the 
novelist  that  she  made  her  entries. 

"  It  seems  hopeless  to  go  back  to  the  beginning," 
wrote  Mary,  "  and  tell  all  that  has  happened  so  far, 
so  I  shall  begin  with  this  morning.  Soon  after 
breakfast  we  went  to  Rollington  in  the  carriage, 
Joyce  and  Betty  and  I  on  the  back  seat,  and  Lloyd 
in  front  with  the  coachman.  And  Mrs.  Crisp  cut 
down  nearly  a  whole  bushful  of  bridal  wreath  to 
decorate  Eugenia's  room  with.  When  we  got  back 
May  Lily  had  just  finished  putting  up  fresh  cur- 


102    THE  LITTLE   COLONEL:  MAID   OF  HONOR 

tains  in  the  room,  almost  as  fine  and  thin  as  frost- 
work. The  furniture  is  all  white,  and  the  walls 
a  soft,  cool  green,  and  the  rugs  like  that  dark  vel- 
vety moss  that  grows  in  the  deepest  woods.  When 
we  had  finished  filling  the  vases  and  jardinieres, 
the  room  itself  all  snowy  white  and  green  made 
you  think  of  a  bush  of  bridal  wreath. 

"  We  were  barely  through  with  that  when  it 
was  time  for  Lloyd  and  Aunt  Elizabeth  to  go  to 
the  station  to  meet  Eugenia.  There  wasn't  room 
for  the  rest  of  us  in  the  carriage,  so  Betty  and 
Joyce  and  I  hung  out  of  the  windows  and  watched 
for  them,  and  Betty  and  Joyce  talked  about  the 
other  time  Eugenia  came,  when  they  walked  up 
and  down  under  the  locusts  waiting  for  her  and 
wondering  what  she  would  be  like.  When  she  did 
come,  they  were  half-afraid  of  her,  she  was  so 
stylish  and  young-ladified,  and  ordered  her  maid 
about  in  such  a  superior  way. 

"  Betty  said  it  was  curious  how  snippy  girls  of 
that  age  can  be  sometimes,  and  then  turn  out  to 
be  such  fine  women  afterward,  when  they  outgrow 
their  snippiness  and  snobbishness.  Then  she  told 
us  a  lot  we  had  never  heard  about  the  school  Eu- 
genia went  to  in  Germany  to  take  a  training  in 
housekeeping,  and  so  many  interesting  things  about 


THE    COMING   OF  THE  BRIDE  IO3 

her  that  I  was  all  in  a  quiver  of  curiosity  to  see 
her. 

"  When  we  heard  the  carriage  coming,  Betty 
and  Joyce  tore  down-stairs  to  meet  her,  but  I  just 
hung  farther  out  of  the  window.  And,  oh,  but 
she  was  pretty  and  stylish  and  tall  —  and  just  as 
Betty  had  said,  patrician-looking,  with  her  dusky 
hair  and  big  dark  eyes.  She  is  the  Spanish  type 
of  beauty.  She  swept  into  the  house  so  grandly, 
with  her  maid  following  with  her  satchels  (the 
same  old  Eliot  who  was  here  before),  that  I  thought 
for  a  moment  maybe  she  was  as  stuck-up  as  ever. 
But  when  she  saw  her  old  room,  she  acted  just 
like  a  happy  little  girl,  ready  to  cry  and  laugh  in 
the  same  breath  because  everything  had  been  made 
so  beautiful  for  her  coming.  While  she  was  still 
in  the  midst  of  admiring  everything,  she  sat  right 
down  on  the  bed  and  tore  off  her  gloves,  so  that 
she  could  open  the  queer-looking  parcel  she  carried. 
I  had  thought  maybe  it  was  something  too  valuable 
to  put  in  the  satchels,  but  it  was  only  a  new  kind 
of  egg-beater  she  had  seen  in  a  show-window  on 
her  way  from  one  depot  to  another.  You  would 
have  thought  from  the  way  she  carried  on  that 
she  had  found  a  wonderful  treasure.  And  in  the 
midst  of  showing  us  that  she  exclaimed: 


104    THE  LITTLE    COLONEL  :  MAID   OF  HONOR 

"  '  Oh,  girls,  what  do  you  think  ?  I  met  the  dear- 
est old  lady  on  the  sleeper,  and  she  gave  me  a 
receipt  for  a  new  kind  of  salad.  That  makes  ten 
kinds  of  salad  that  I  know  how  to  make.  Oh,  I 
just  can't  wait  to  tell  you  about  our  little  love  of 
a  house!  It's  all  furnished  and  waiting  for  us. 
Papa  and  I  were  out  to  look  all  over  it  the  day 
I  started,  and  everything  was  in  place  but  the  re- 
frigerator, and  Stuart  had  already  ordered  one  sent 
out.' 

"  Then  Lloyd  opened  the  closet  door  and  called 
her  attention  to  the  great  pile  of  packages  waiting 
to  be  opened.  She  flew  at  them  and  called  us  all 
to  help,  and  for  a  little  while  Mom  Beck  and  Eliot 
were  kept  busy  picking  up  strings  and  wrapping- 
paper  and  cotton  and  excelsior.  When  we  were 
through,  the  bed  and  the  chairs  and  mantel  and 
two  extra  tables  that  had  been  brought  in  were 
piled  with  the  most  beautiful  things  I  ever  saw. 
I  never  dreamed  there  were  such  lovely  things  in 
the  world  as  some  of  the  beaten  silver  and  hand- 
painted  china  and  Tiffany  glass.  There  was  a  jew- 
elled fan,  and  all  sorts  of  things  in  gold  and  mother- 
of-pearl,  and  there  was  some  point  lace  that  she 
said  was  more  suitable  for  a  queen  than  a  young 


THE   COMING  OF  THE  BRIDE  IO5 

American  girl.  Her  father  has  so  many  wealthy 
friends,  and  they  all  sent  presents. 

"  Opening  the  bundles  was  so  much  fun,  —  like 
a  continual  surprise-party,  Betty  said,  or  a  hundred 
Christmases  rolled  into  one.  Between  times  when 
Eugenia  wasn't  exclaiming  over  how  lovely  every- 
thing was,  she  was  telling  us  how  the  house  was 
furnished,  and  what  a  splendid  fellow  Stuart  is, 
and  how  wild  she  is  for  us  to  know  him.  I  had 
never  heard  a  bride  talk  before,  and  she  was  so 
happy  that  somehow  it  made  you  feel  that  getting 
married  was  the  most  beautiful  thing  in  the  world. 

"  One  of  the  first  things  she  did  when  she  opened 
her  suit-case  was  to  take  out  a  picture  of  Stuart. 
It  was  a  miniature  on  ivory  in  a  locket  of  Venetian 
gold,  because  it  was  in  Venice  he  had  proposed 
to  her.  After  she  had  shown  it  to  us,  she  put  it 
in  the  centre  of  her  dressing-table,  with  the  white 
flowers  all  around  it,  as  if  it  had  been  some  sort 
of  shrine.  There  was  a  look  in  her  eyes  that  made 
me  think  of  the  picture  in  Betty's  room  of  a  nun 
laying  lilies  on  an  altar. 

"  It  is  after  luncheon  now,  and  she  has  gone  to 
her  room  to  rest  awhile.  So  have  the  other  girls. 
But  I  couldn't  sleep.  The  days  are  slipping  by 
too  fast  for  me  to  waste  any  time  that  way." 


IO6    THE  LITTLE    COLONEL  :  MAID   OF  HONOR 

The  house  was  quiet  when  Mary  closed  her 
journal.  Joyce  was  still  asleep  on  the  bed,  and 
through  the  open  door  she  could  see  Betty,  tilted 
back  in  a  big  chair,  nodding  over  a  magazine.  She 
concluded  it  would  be  a  good  time  to  dash  off  a 
letter  to  Holland,  but  with  a  foresight  which 
prompted  her  to  be  ready  for  any  occasion,  she 
decided  to  dress  first  for  the  evening.  Tiptoeing 
around  the  room,  she  brushed  her  hair  in  the  new 
way  Mom  Beck  had  taught  her,  and,  taking  out 
her  prettiest  white  dress,  proceeded  to  array  her- 
self in  honor  of  the  best  man's  coming.  Then  she 
rummaged  in  the  tray  of  her  trunk  till  she  found 
her  pink  coral  necklace  and  fan-chain,  and,  with 
a  sigh  of  satisfaction  that  she  was  ready  for  any 
emergency,  seated  herself  at  her  letter-writing. 

She  had  written  only  a  page,  however,  when 
the  clock  on  the  stairs  chimed  four.  The  deep 
tones  echoing  through  the  hall  sent  Lloyd  bounc- 
ing up  from  her  couch,  her  hair  falling  over  her 
shoulders  and  her  long  kimono  tripping  her  at 
every  step,  as  she  ran  into  Joyce's  room. 

"What  are  we  going  to  do?"  she  cried  in  dis- 
may. "  I  ovahslept  myself,  and  now  it's  foah 
o'clock,  and  Phil's  train  due  in  nine  minutes.  The 
carriage  is  at  the  doah  and  none  of  us  dressed 


THE    COMING  OF   THE  BRIDE  IOJ 

to  go  to  meet  him.  I  wrote  that  the  entiah  bridal 
party  would  be  there." 

Joyce  sprang-  up  in  a  dazed  sort  of  way,  and 
began  putting  on  her  slippers.  The  bridesmaids 
had  talked  so  much  about  the  grand  welcome  the 
best  man  was  to  receive  -on  his  entrance  to  the 
Valley  that,  half-awake  as  she  was,  she  could  not 
realize  that  it  was  too  late  to  carry  out  their  plans. 

"  Oh,  it's  no  use  trying  to  get  ready  now,"  said 
Lloyd,  in  a  disappointed  tone.  "  We  couldn't  dress 
and  get  to  the  station  in  time  to  save  ou'  lives." 
Then  her  glance  fell  on  Mary,  sitting  at  her  desk 
in  all  her  brave  array  of  pink  ribbons  and  corals. 

"Why,  Mary  can  go!"  she  cried,  in  a  relieved 
tone.  "  I  had  forgotten  that  she  knows  Phil  as 
well  as  we  do.  Run  on,  that's  a  deah!  Don't  stop 
for  a  hat  1  You  won't  need  it  in  the  carriage.  Tell 
him  that  you're  the  maid  of  honah  on  this  occa- 
sion ! " 

It  was  all  over  so  quickly,  the  rapid  drive  down 
the  avenue,  the  quick  dash  up  to  the  station  as  the 
train  came  puffing  past,  that  Mary  had  little  time 
to  rehearse  the  part  she  had  been  bidden  to  play. 
She  was  so  afraid  that  Phil  would  not  recognize 
her  that  she  wondered  if  she  ought  not  to  begin 
by  introducing  herself.  She  pictured  the  scene  in 


IO8    THE  LITTLE   COLONEL  :   MAID   OF  HONOR 

her  mind  as  they  rolled  along,  unconscious  that 
she  was  smiling  and  bowing  into  empty  air,  as  she 
rehearsed  the  speech  with  which  she  intended  to 
impress  him.  She  would  be  as  dignified  and  gra- 
cious as  the  Princess  herself;  not  at  all  like  the 
hoydenish  child  of  eleven  who  had  waved  her  sun- 
bonnet  at  him  in  parting  three  years  before. 

The  sight  of  the  train  as  it  slowed  up  sent  a 
queer  inward  quiver  of  expectancy  through  her, 
and  her  cheeks  were  flushed  with  eagerness  as  she 
leaned  forward  watching  for  him.  With  a  nerv- 
ous gesture,  she  put  her  hand  up  to  her  hair-rib- 
bons to  make  sure  that  her  bows  were  in  place,  and 
then  clutched  the  coral  necklace.  Then  Betty's  ser- 
mon flashed  across  her  mind,  and  the  thought  that 
she  had  done  just  like  the  self-conscious  girl  at 
school  brought  a  distressed  pucker  between  her 
eyebrows.  But  the  next  instant  she  forgot  all 
about  it.  She  forgot  the  princess-like  way  in  which 
she  was  to  step  from  the  carriage,  the  dignity  with 
which  she  was  to  offer  Phil  her  hand,  and  the  words 
wherewith  she  was  to  welcome  him.  She  had 
caught  sight  of  a  wide-brimmed  gray  hat  over  the 
heads  of  the  crowd,  and  a  face,  bronzed  and  hand- 
some, almost  as  dear  in  its  familiar  outlines  as 
Jack's  or  Holland's.  Her  carefully  rehearsed  ac- 


THE  COMING   OF  THE  BRIDE  IOQ 

tions  flew  to  the  winds,  as,  regardless  of  the  stran- 
gers all  about,  she  sprang  from  the  carriage  and 
ran  along  bareheaded  in  the  sun.  And  Phil,  glanc- 
ing around  him  for  the  bridal  party  that  was  to 
meet  him,  was  surprised  beyond  measure  when  this 
little  apparition  from  the  Arizona  Wigwam  caught 
him  by  the  hand.  * 

"  Bless  my  soul,  it's  the  little  Vicar ! "  he  ex- 
claimed. "  Why,  it's  like  getting  back  home  to 
see  you!  And  how  you've  grown,  and  how  really 
civilized  you  are !  " 

So  he  had  remembered  her.  He  was  glad  to 
see  her.  With  her  face  glowing  and  her  feet  fairly 
dancing,  she  led  him  to  the  carriage,  pouring  out 
a  flood  of  information  as  they  went,  about  The 
Locusts  and  the  wedding  and  the  people  they 
passed,  and  how  lovely  everything  was  in  the  Valley, 
till  he  said,  with  a  twinkle  in  his  eyes :  "  You're 
the  same  enthusiastic  little  soul  that  you  used  to 
be,  aren't  you?  I  hope  you'll  speak  as  good  a  word 
for  me  at  The  Locusts  as  you  did  at  Lee's  ranch. 
I  am  taking  it  as  a  good  omen  that  you  were  sent 
to  conduct  me  into  this  happy  land.  You  made  a 
success  of  it  that  other  time;  somehow  I'm  sure 
you  will  this  time." 

All  the  way  to  the  house  Mary  sat  and  beamed 


1 10    THE  LITTLE    COLONEL  :   MAID    OF  HONOR 

on  him  as  she  talked,  thinking  how  much  older 
he  looked,  and  yet  how  friendly  and  brotherly  he 
still  was.  She  introduced  him  to  Mrs.  Sherman 
with  a  proud,  grandmotherly  air  of  proprietorship, 
and  took  a  personal  pride  in  every  complimentary 
thing  said  about  him  afterward,  as  if  she  were 
responsible  for  his  good  behavior,  and  was  pleased 
with  the  way  he  was  "  showing  off." 

Rob  came  over  as  usual  in  the  evening.  Phil 
was  not  there  at  first.  He  and  Eugenia  were  stroll- 
ing about  the  grounds.  Mary,  sitting  in  a  hammock 
on  the  porch,  was  impatient  for  them  to  come  in, 
for  she  wanted  to  see  what  impression  he  would 
make  on  Rob,  whom  she  had  been  thinking  lately 
was  the  nicest  man  she  ever  met.  She  wanted  to 
see  them  together  to  contrast  the  two,  for  they 
seemed  wonderfully  alike  in  size  and  general  appear- 
ance. In  actions,  too,  Mary  thought,  remembering 
how  they  both  had  teased  her. 

She  had  not  seen  Rob  since  their  unhappy  en- 
counter early  that  morning,  when  she  had  been 
so  overcome  with  mortification;  and  if  Betty  had 
not  been  on  the  porch  also,  she  would  have  found 
it  hard  to  stay  and  face  him.  But  she  wanted  to 
show  Betty  that  she  had  taken  her  little  sermon  to 
heart.  Then,  besides,  the  affair  did  not  look  so 


THE  COMING  OF  THE  BRIDE       III 

big,  after  all  that  had  happened  during  this  excit- 
ing day. 

As  they  waited,  Joyce  joined  them,  and  presently 
they  heard  Lloyd  coming  through  the  hall.  She 
was  singing  a  verse  from  Ingelow's  "  Songs  of 
Seven :  " 

" '  There  is  no  dew  left  on  the  daisies  and  clover. 
There  is  no  rain  left  in  the  heaven. 
I've  said  my  seven  times  over  and  over  — 
Seven  times  one  are  seven.'  " 

Then  she  began  again,  "  '  There  is  no  dew  left 
on  the  daisies  and  clover  — ' '  Rob  turned  to 
Mary.  "  I  wonder  why,"  he  said,  meaningly. 

The  red  flashed  up  into  Mary's  face  and  she  made 
no  audible  answer,  but  Joyce,  turning  suddenly, 
saw  to  her  horror  that  Mary  had  made  a  saucy 
face  at  him  and  thrust  out  her  tongue  like  a  naughty 
child. 

"  Why,  Mary  Ware !  "  she  began,  in  a  shocked 
tone,  but  Betty  interrupted  with  a  laugh.  "  Let 
her  alone,  Joyce;  he  richly  deserved  it.  He  was 
teasing  her." 

"  Betty  was  right,"  thought  Mary  afterward. 
"  It  was  better  to  make  fun  of  his  teasing  than  to 
run  off  and  cry  because  he  happened  to  mention 


112    THE  LITTLE   COLONEL:  MAID    OF  HONOR 

the  subject.  If  I  had  done  that,  he  never  would 
have  said  to  Betty  afterward  that  I  was  the  j oiliest 
little  thing  that  ever  came  over  the  pike.  How 
much  better  this  day  has  ended  than  it  began." 


CHAPTER   VIII. 

AT    THE    BEECHES 

THE  invitation  came  by  telephone  while  the  fam- 
ily was  at  breakfast  next  morning.  Would  the 
house-party  at  The  Locusts  join  the  house-party 
at  The  Beeches  in  giving  a  series  of  tableaux  at 
their  lawn  fete  that  night  ?  If  so,  would  the  house- 
party  at  The  Locusts  proceed  immediately  to  The 
Beeches  to  spend  the  morning  in  the  rehearsing  of 
tableaux,  the  selection  of  costumes,  the  manufac- 
ture of  paper  roses,  and  the  pleasure  of  each  other's 
honorable  company  in  the  partaking  of  a  picnic- 
lunch  under  the  trees  ? 

There  was  an  enthusiastic  acceptance  from  all 
except  Eugenia,  who,  tired  from  her  long  journey 
and  with  many  important  things  to  attend  to, 
begged  to  be  left  behind  for  a  quiet  day  with  her 
cousin  Elizabeth.  Mary,  tormented  by  a  fear  that 
maybe  she  was  not  included  in  the  invitation,  since 
she  was  a  child,  and  all  the  guests  at  The  Beeches 
were  grown,  could  scarcely  finish  her  breakfast  in 
113 


114    THE  LITTLE   COLONEL:  MAID    OF  HONOR 

her  excitement.  But  long  before  the  girls  were 
ready  to  start,  her  fears  were  set  at  rest  by  the 
arrival  of  Elise  Walton  in  her  pony-cart.  She 
wanted  Mary  to  drive  to  one  of  the  neighbors  with 
her,  to  borrow  a  bonnet  and  shawl  over  fifty  years 
old,  which  were  to  figure  in  one  of  the  tableaux. 

Elise  had  not  been  attracted  by  Mary's  appear- 
ance the  day  she  met  her  in  the  restaurant  and  was 
not  sure  that  she  would  care  for  her.  It  was  only 
.her  hospitable  desire  to  be  nice  to  a  guest  in  the 
Valley  that  made  her  comply  so  willingly  to  her 
mother's  request  to  show  her  some  especial  atten- 
tion. Mary,  spoiled  by  the  companionship  of  the 
older  girls  for  the  society  of  those  her  own  age, 
was  afraid  that  Elise  would  be  a  repetition  of  Girlie 
Dinsmore;  but  before  they  had  gone  half  a  mile 
together  they  were  finding  each  other  so  vastly  en- 
tertaining that  by  the  time  they  reached  The 
Beeches  they  felt  like  old  friends. 

It  was  Mary's  first  sight  of  the  place,  except  the 
glimpse  she  had  caught  through  the  trees  the  morn- 
ing they  passed  on  their  way  to  Rollington.  As  the 
pony-cart  rattled  up  the  wide  carriage  drive  which 
swept  around  in  front  of  the  house,  she  felt  as  if 
she  were  riding  straight  into  a  beautiful  old  South- 
ern story  of  ante-bellum  days.  Back  into  the  times 


AT  THE  BEECHES  11$ 

when  people  had  leisure  to  make  hospitality  their 
chief  business  in  life,  and  could  afford  for  every 
day  to  be  a  holiday.  When  there  were  always 
guests  under  the  spreading  rooftree  of  the  great 
house,  and  laughter  and  plenty  in  the  servants' 
quarters.  The  sound  of  a  banjo  and  a  negro  melody 
somewhere  in  the  background  heightened  the  effect 
of  that  illusion. 

The  wide  front  porch  seemed  full  of  people. 
Allison  and  Kitty  looked  up  with  a  word  of  greet- 
ing as  the  two  girls  came  up,  one  carrying  the  bon- 
net and  the  other  the  shawl,  but  nobody  seemed  to 
think  it  necessary  to  introduce  Elise's  little  friend 
to  the  other  guests.  It  would  have  been  an  embar- 
rassing ordeal  for  her,  for  there  were  so  many 
strangers.  Mary  recognized  the  two  young  lieu- 
tenants. 

With  the  help  of  a  pretty  brunette  in  white, 
whom  Elise  whispered  was  Miss  Bonham  from 
Lexington,  they  were  rigging  up  some  kind  of  a 
coat  of  mail  for  Lieutenant  Logan  to  wear  in  one 
of  the  tableaux.  Ranald,  with  a  huge  sheet  of 
cardboard  and  the  library  shears,  was  manufactur- 
ing a  pair  of  giant  scissors,  half  as  long  as  himself, 
which  a  blonde  in  blue  was  waiting  to  cover  with 
tin  foil.  She  was  singing  coon  songs  while  she 


Il6    THE  LITTLE   COLONEL:  MAID  OF  HONOR 

waited,  to  the  accompaniment  of  a  mandolin,  and 
in  such  a  gay,  rollicking  way,  that  every  one  was 
keeping  time  either  with  hand  or  foot. 

"  That  is  Miss  Bernice  Howe,"  answered  Elise, 
in  response  to  Mary's  whispered  question.  "  She 
lives  here  in  the  Valley.  And  that's  Malcolm 
Maclntyre,  my  cousin,  who  is  sitting  beside  her. 
That's  his  brother  Keith  helping  Aunt  Allison  with 
the  programme  cards." 

Mary  stared  at  the  two  young  men,  vaguely  dis- 
appointed. They  were  the  two  little  knights  of 
Kentucky,  but  they  were  grown  up,  like  all  the 
other  heroes  and  heroines  she  had  looked  forward 
to  meeting.  She  told  herself  that  she  might  have 
expected  it,  for  she  knew  that  Malcolm  was  Joyce's 
age;  but  she  had  associated  them  so  long  with  the 
handsome  little  fellows  in  the  photograph  Lloyd 
had,  clad  in  the  knightly  costumes  of  King  Arthur's 
time,  that  it  was  hard  to  recognize  them  now,  in 
these  up-to-date,  American  college  boys,  who  had 
long  ago  discarded  their  knightly  disguises. 

"  And  that,"  said  Elise,  as  another  young  man 
came  out  of  the  house  with  a  sheet  of  music  in  his 
hand  for  Miss  Howe,  "  is  Mister  Alex  Shelby.  He 
lives  in  Louisville,  but  he  comes  out  to  the  Valley 


AT  THE  BEECHES  1 1/ 

all  the  time  to  see  Bernice.  I'll  tell  you  about  them 
while  we  drive  over  to  Mrs.  Bisbee's. 

"  It's  this  way,"  she  began  a  few  moments  later, 
as  they  rattled  down  the  road ;  "  Bernice  asked  Alli- 
son if  Mister  Shelby  couldn't  be  in  one  of  the  ta- 
bleaux. Allison  said  yes,  that  they  had  intended  to 
ask  him  before  she  spoke  of  it ;  ±hat  they  had  decided 
to  ask  him  to  be  the  boatman  in  the  tableau  of 
'  Elaine,  the  Lily  Maid  of  Astolat.'  But  when  Ber- 
nice found  that  Lloyd  had  already  been  asked  to  be 
Elaine,  she  was  furious.  She  said  she  was  just  as 
good  as  engaged  to  him,  or  something  of  the  sort, 
I  don't  know  exactly  what.  And  she  knew,  if 
Lloyd  had  a  chance  to  monopolize  him  in  that  beau- 
tiful tableau,  what  it  would  lead  to.  It  wouldn't 
be  the  first  time  that  Lloyd  had  quietly  stepped 
in  and  taken  possession  of  her  particular  friends. 
She  made  such  a  fuss  about  it,  that  Allison  finally 
said  she'd  change,  and  make  Malcolm  take  the  part 
of  boatman,  and  give  Alex  the  part  they  had  in- 
tended for  Malcolm,  even  if  they  didn't  fit  as  well." 

"  The  hateful  thing !  "  sputtered  Mary,  indig- 
nantly. "  I  don't  see  how  she  can  insinuate  such 
mean  things  about  any  one  as  sweet  and  beautiful 
as  Lloyd  is." 

"  I  don't  either,"  agreed  Elise,  "  but  Allison  says 


Il8    THE  LITTLE   COLONEL:  MAID   OF  HONOR 

it  is  true  that  everybody  who  has  ever  started  out  as 
a  special  friend  of  Bernice,  men  I  mean,  have  ended 
by  thinking-  the  most  of  Lloyd.  But  everybody 
knows  that  it  is  simply  because  she  is  more  attractive 
than  Bernice.  As  Ranald  says  Lloyd  isn't  a  girl 
to  fish  for  attention,  and  that  Bernice  would  have 
more  if  she  didn't  show  the  fellows  that  she  was 
after  them  with  a  hook.  Don't  you  tell  Lloyd  I 
told  you  all  this,"  warned  Elise. 

"Oh,  I  wouldn't  think  of  doing  such  a  thing!" 
cried  Mary.  "  It  would  hurt  her  dreadfully  to  know 
that  anybody  talked  so  mean  about  her.  I  wouldn't 
be  the  one  to  repeat  it,  for  worlds !  " 

Left  to  hold  the  pony  while  Elise  went  in  at  Mrs. 
Bisbee's,  Mary  sat  thinking  of  the  snake  she  had 
discovered  in  her  Eden.  It  was  a  rude  shock  to  find 
that  every  one  did  not  admire  and  love  the  "  Queen 
of  Hearts,"  who  to  her  was  without  fault  or  flaw. 
All  the  rest  of  that  day  and  evening,  she  could  not 
look  in  Bernice  Howe's  direction,  without  a  savage 
desire  to  scratch  her.  Once,  when  she  heard  her 
address  Lloyd  as  "  dearie,"  she  could  hardly  keep 
from  crying  out,  "  Oh,  you  sly,  two-faced  crea- 
ture!" 

Lloyd  and  her  guests  arrived  on  the  scene  while 
Mary  was  away  in  the  pony-cart  on  another  bor- 


AT  THE  BEECHES  I IQ 

rowing  expedition.  All  of  the  tableaux,  except  two, 
were  simple  in  setting,  requiring  only  the  costumes 
that  could  be  furnished  by  the  chests  of  the  neigh- 
borhood attics.  But  those  two  kept  everybody  busy 
all  morning  long.  One  was  the  reproduction  of  a 
famous  painting  called  June,  in  which  seven  gar- 
landed maidens  in  Greek  costumes  posed  in  a  be- 
witching rose  bower.  Quantities  of  roses  were 
needed  for  the  background,  great  masses  of  them 
that  would  not  fade  and  droop ;  and  since  previous 
experience  had  proved  that  artificial  flowers  may  be 
used  with  fine  stage  effect  in  the  glare  of  red  foot- 
lights the  whole  place  was  bursting  into  tissue-paper 
bloom.  The  girls  cut  and  folded  the  myriad  petals 
needed,  the  boys  wired  them,  and  a  couple  of  little 
pickaninnies  sent  out  to  gather  foliage,  piled  arm- 
fuls  of  young  oak-leaves  on  the  porch  to  twine  into 
long  conventional  garlands,  like  the  ones  in  the 
painting. 

Agnes  Waring  had  come  over  to  help  with  the 
Greek  costumes,  and  since  the  long  folds  of  cheese- 
cloth could  be  held  in  place  by  girdles,  basting 
threads,  and  pins,  the  gowns  were  rapidly  finished. 

Down  by  the  tea-house  the  colored  coachman 
sawed  and  pounded  and  planed  under  Malcolm's 
occasional  direction.  He  was  building  a  barge  like 


120    THE  LITTLE   COLONEL  :   MAID   OF  HONOR 

the  one  described  in  Tennyson's  poem  of  the  Lily 
Maid  of  Astolat.  From  time  to  time,  Lloyd,  who 
was  to  personate  Elaine,  was  called  to  stretch  her- 
self out  on  the  black  bier  in  the  centre,  to  see  if  it 
was  long  enough  or  high  enough  or  wide  enough, 
before  the  final  nails  were  driven  into  place. 

Malcolm,  with  a  pole  in  his  hand,  posed  as  the 
old  dumb  servitor  who  was  to  row  her  up  the  river. 
It  all  looked  unpromising  enough  in  the  broad  day- 
light ;  the  boat  with  its  high  stiff  prow  made  of  dry 
goods  boxes  and  covered  with  black  calico,  and 
Lloyd  stretched  out  on  the  bier  in  a  modern  shirt- 
waist suit  with  side-combs  in  her  hair.  She  gig- 
gled as  she  meekly  crossed  her  hands  on  her  breast, 
with  a  piece  of  newspaper  folded  in  one  to  repre- 
sent the  letter,  and  a  bunch  of  lilac  leaves  in  the 
other,  which  later  was  to  clasp  the  lily.  From  under 
the  long  eyelashes  lying  on  her  cheeks,  she  smiled 
mischievously  at  Malcolm,  who  was  vainly  trying 
to  put  a  decrepit  bend  into  his  athletic  young  back, 
as  he  bent  over  the  pole  in  the  attitude  of  an  old, 
old  man. 

"Yes,  it  does  look  silly  now,"  admitted  Miss 
Allison  in  answer  to  his  protest  that  he  felt  like  a 
fool.  "  But  wait  till  you  get  on  the  long  white 
beard  and  wig  I  have  for  you,  and  the  black  robe. 


AT  THE  BEECHES  121 

You'll  look  like  Methuselah.  And  Lloyd  will  be 
covered  with  a  cloth  of  gold,  and  her  hair  will  be 
rippling  down  all  over  her  shoulders  like  gold,  too. 
And  we've  a  real  lily  for  the  occasion,  a  long  stalk 
of  them.  Oh,  this  tableau  is  to  be  the  gem  of  the 
collection." 

"  But  half  the  people  here  won't  understand  it," 
said  Malcolm. 

"  Yes,  they  will,  for  we're  to  have  readings  be- 
hind the  scenes  in  explanation  of  each  one.  We've 
engaged  an  amateur  elocutionist  for  the  occasion. 
I'll  show  you  just  the  part  she'll  read  for  this  scene, 
so  you'll  know  how  long  you  have  to  pose  to-night. 
It  begins  with  those  lines,  '  And  the  dead,  oared  by 
the  dumb,  went  upward  with  the  flood.  In  her 
right  hand  the  lily,  in  her  left  the  letter.'  Where 
did  I  put  that  volume  of  Tennyson?  " 

"  Here  it  is,"  answered  Mary  Ware,  unexpect- 
edly, springing  up  from  her  seat  on  the  grass  to 
hand  her  the  volume.  She  had  been  watching  the 
rehearsal  with  wide-eyed  interest.  Deep  down  in 
her  romance-loving  little  soul  had  long  been  the 
desire  to  see  Sir  Feal  the  Faithful  face  to  face,  and 
hear  him  address  the  Princess.  The  play  of  the 
"  Rescue  of  the  Princess  Winsome "  had  become 
a  real  thing  to  her,  that  she  felt  that  it  must  have 


122    THE  LITTLE   COLONEL:  MAID   OF  HONOR 

happened;  that  Malcolm  really  was  Lloyd's  true 
knight,  and  that  when  they  were  alone  together  they 
talked  like  the  people  in  books.  She  was  disap- 
pointed when  the  rehearsal  was  over  because  the 
conversation  she  had  imagined  did  not  take  place. 

The  coachman's  carpenter-work  was  not  of  the 
steadiest,  and  Lloyd  lay  laughing  on  the  shaky  bier 
because  she  could  not  rise  without  fear  of  upsetting 
it. 

"  Help  me  up,  you  ancient  mariner,"  she  ordered, 
and  when  Malcolm,  instead  of  springing  forward 
in  courtly  fashion  to  her  assistance  as  Sir  Feal 
should  have  done,  playfully  held  out  his  pole  for  her 
to  pull  herself  up  by,  Mary  felt  that  something  was 
wrong.  A  playful  manner  was  not  seemly  on  the 
part  of  a  Sir  Feal.  It  would  have  been  natural 
enough  for  Phil  or  Rob  to  do  teasing  things,  but 
she  resented  it  when  there  seemed  a  lack  of  defer- 
ence on  Malcolm's  part  toward  the  Princess. 

After  they  had  gone  back  to  the  porch,  Mary  sat 
on  the  grass  a  long  time,  reading  the  part  of  the 
poem  relating  to  the  tableau.  She  and  Holland  had 
committed  to  memory  several  pages  of  the  "  Idylls 
of  the  King,"  and  had  often  run  races  repeating 
them,  to  see  which  could  finish  first.  Now  Mary 
found  that  she  still  remembered  the  entire  page 


AT  THE  BEECHES  12$ 

that  Miss  Allison  had  read.     She  closed  the  book, 
and  repeated  it  to  herself. 

"  So  that  day  there  was  dole  in  Astolat. 

Then  rose  the  dumb  old  servitor,  and  the  dead, 
Oared  by  the  dumb,  went  upward  with  the  flood  — 
In  her  right  hand  the  lily,  in  her  left 
The  letter  —  all  her  bright  hair  streaming  down  — 
And  all  the  coverlid  was  cloth  of  gold  — 
Drawn  to  her  waist,  and  she  herself  in  white. 
All  but  her  face,  and  that  clear-featured  face 
Was  lovely,  for  she  did  not  seem  as  dead, 
But  fast  asleep,  and  lay  as  though  she  smiled." 

That  was  as  far  as  Mary  got  with  her  whis- 
pered declamation,  for  two  white-capped  maids 
came  out  and  began  spreading  small  tables  under 
the  beech-tree  where  she  sat.  She  opened  the  book 
and  began  reading,  because  she  did  not  know  what 
else  to  do.  While  she  had  been  watching  Lloyd 
in  the  boat,  Elise  had  been  summoned  to  the  house 
to  try  on  the  dress  she  was  to  wear  in  the  tableau 
of  the  gipsy  fortune-teller.  The  people  on  the  porch 
had  divided  into  little  groups  which  she  did  not 
feel  free  to  join.  She  was  afraid  they  would  think 
she  was  intruding.  Even  her  own  sister  seemed 
out  of  her  reach,  for  she  and  Lieutenant  Logan  had 
taken  their  share  of  paper  roses  over  to  a  rustic 


124    THE  LITTLE    COLONEL:  MAID    OF  HONOR 

seat  near  the  croquet  grounds  and  were  talking 
more  busily  than  they  were  fashioning  tissue 
flowers. 

Mary  was  unselfishly  glad  that  Joyce  was  having 
attention  like  the  other  girls  and  that  she  had  been 
chosen  for  one  of  the  Greek  maidens  in  the  tableau 
of  June.  And  she  wasn't  really  jealous  of  Elise 
because  she  was  to  be  tambourine  girl  in  the  gipsy 
scene,  but  she  did  wish,  with  a  little  fluttering  sigh, 
that  she  could  have  had  some  small  part  in  it  all. 
It  was  hard  to  be  the  only  plain  one  in  the  midst  of 
so  many  pretty  girls ;  so  plain  that  nobody  even 
thought  of  suggesting  her  for  one  of  the  characters. 

"  I  know  very  well,"  she  said  to  herself,  "  that 
a  Lily  Maid  of  Astolat  with  freckles  would  be  ridicu- 
lous, and  I'm  not  slim  and  graceful  enough  to  be  a 
tambourine  girl,  but  it  would  be  so  nice  to  have 
some  part  in  it.  It  would  be  such  a  comfortable 
feeling  to  know  that  you're  pretty  enough  always 
to  be  counted  in." 

Her  musings  were  interrupted  by  the  descent  of 
the  party  upon  the  picnic  tables,  and  she  looked  up 
to  see  Elise  beckoning  her  to  a  seat.  To  her  delight 
it  was  at  the  table  opposite  the  one  where  Lloyd 
and  Phil,  Anna  Moore  and  Keith  were  seated. 
Malcolm  was  just  across  from  them,  with  Miss 


AT  THE  BEECHES  12$ 

Bonham  on  one  side  and  Betty  and  Lieutenant 
Stanley  on  the  other.  Mary  looked  around  inquir- 
ingly for  her  sister.  She  was  with  Rob  now,  and 
Lieutenant  Logan  was  placing  chairs  for  Allison 
and  himself  on  the  other  side  of  the  tree.  Mr. 
Shelby  and  the  hateful  Miss  Bernice  Howe  were 
over  there,  too,  Mary  noted,  glad  that  they  were  at 
a  distance. 

Malcolm  was  still  in  a  teasing  mood,  it  seemed, 
for  as  Lloyd  helped  herself  in  picnic  fashion  from 
a  plate  of  fried  chicken,  he  said,  laughing,  "  Look 
at  Elaine  now.  Tennyson  wouldn't  know  his  Lily 
Maid  if  he  saw  her  in  this  way."  He  struck  an 
attitude,  declaiming  dramatically,  "  In  her  right 
hand  the  wish-bone,  in  her  left  the  olive." 

"  That's  all  right,"  answered  Lloyd,  tossing  the 
olive  stone  out  on  the  grass,  and  helping  herself 
to  a  beaten  biscuit.  "  I  always  did  think  that 
Elaine  was  a  dreadful  goose  to  go  floating  down 
the  rivah  to  a  man  who  didn't  care  two  straws  about 
her.  She'd  much  bettah  have  held  on  to  a  wish- 
bone and  an  olive  and  stayed  up  in  her  high  towah 
with  her  fathah  and  brothahs  who  appreciated  her. 
She  would  have  had  a  bettah  time  and  he  would 
have  had  lots  moah  respect  for  her." 

"  Oh,  I  don't  think  so,"  cooed   Miss  Bonham, 


126    THE  LITTLE   COLONEL  :  MAID   OF  HONOR 

with  a  coquettish  side  glance  at  Phil.  "  That  al- 
ways seemed  such  a  beautifully  romantic  situation 
to  me.  Doesn't  it  appeal  to  you,  Mr.  Tremont?" 

Mary  listened  for  Phil's  answer  with  grave  at- 
tention, for  she,  too,  considered  it  a  touching  situ- 
ation, and  more  than  once  had  pictured,  in  pleasing 
day-dream,  herself  as  Elaine,  floating  down  a 
stream  in  that  poetic  fashion. 

"  Well,  no,  Miss  Bonham,"  said  Phil,  laughingly. 
"  I'm  free  to  confess  that  if  I  had  been  Sir  Lancelot, 
I'd  have  liked  her  a  great  deal  better  if  she  had 
been  a  cheerful  sort  of  body,  and  had  stayed  alive. 
Then  if  she  had  come  rowing  up  in  a  nice  trig 
little  craft,  instead  of  that  spooky  old  funeral  barge, 
and  had  offered  me  a  wish-bone  and  an  olive,  I'd 
have  thought  them  twice  as  fetching  as  a  lily  and 
that  doleful  letter.  I'd  have  joined  her  picnic  in 
a  jiffy,  and  probably  had  such  a  jolly  time  that  the 
poem  would  have  ended  with  wedding  bells  in  the 
high  tower  instead  of  a  funeral  dirge  in  the  pal- 
ace. 

"  She  wasn't  game,"  he  continued,  smiling  across 
at  Mary,  who  was  listening  with  absorbing  atten- 
tion. "  Now  if  she  had  only  lived  up  to  the  Vicar 
of  Wakefield's  motto  —  instead  of  mooning  over 
Lancelot's  old  shield,  and  embroidering  things  for 


AT  THE  BEECHES  12? 

it,  and  acting  as  if  it  were  something  too  precious 
for  ordinary  mortals  to  touch  —  if  she'd  batted  it 
into  the  corner,  or  made  mud  pies  on  it,  to  show 
that  she  was  inflexible,  fortune  would  have  changed 
in  her  favor.  Sir  Lancelot  would  have  had  some 
respect  for  her  common  sense." 

Mary,  who  felt  that  the  remark  was  addressed 
to  her,  crimsoned  painfully.  Rob  took  up  the  ques- 
tion, and  his  opinion  was  the  same  as  Phil's  and 
Malcolm's.  Long  after  the  conversation  passed  to 
other  topics,  Mary  puzzled  over  the  fact  that  the 
three  knightliest-looking  men  she  knew,  the  three 
who,  she  supposed,  would  make  ideal  lovers,  had 
laughed  at  one  of  the  most  romantic  situations  in 
all  poesy,  and  had  agreed  that  Elaine  was  silly  and 
sentimental.  Maybe,  she  thought  with  burning 
cheeks,  maybe  they  would  think  sh«-  was  just  as 
bad  if  they  knew  how  she  had  admired  Elaine  and 
imagined  herself  in  her  place,  and  actually  cried 
over  the  poor  maiden  who  loved  so  fondly  and  so 
truly  that  she  could  die  of  a  broken  heart. 

When  she  reflected  that  Lloyd,  too,  had  agreed 
with  them,,  she  began  to  think  that  her  own  ideals 
might  need  reconstructing.  She  was  glad  that 
Phil's  smile  had  seemed  to  say  that  he  took  it  for 
granted  that  she  would  have  been  inflexible  to  the 


128    THE  LITTLE   COLONEL  :  MAID   OF  HONOR 

extent  of  making  mud  pies  on  Lancelot's  shield. 
Unconsciously  her  reconstruction  began  then  and 
there,  for  although  the  seeds  sown  by  the  laugh- 
ing discussion  at  t"he  picnic  table  lay  dormant 
in  her  memory  many  years,  they  blossomed  into  a 
saving  common  sense  at  last,  that  enabled  her  to  see 
the  humorous  side  of  the  most  sentimental  situ- 
ation, and  gave  her  wisdom  to  meet  it  as  it  de- 
served. 

The  outdoor  tableaux  that  night  proved  to  be 
one  of  the  most  successful  entertainments  ever  given 
in  the  Valley.  A  heavy  wire,  stretched  from  one 
beech-tree  to  another,  held  the  curtains  that  hid 
the  impromptu  stage.  The  vine-covered  tea-house 
and  a  dense  clump  of  shrubbery  formed  the  back- 
ground. Rows  of  Japanese  lanterns  strung  from 
the  gate  to  the  house,  and  from  pillar  to  pillar  of 
the  wide  porches,  gave  a  festive  appearance  to  the 
place,  but  they  were  not  really  needed.  The  full 
moon  flooded  the  lawn  with  a  silvery  radiance,  and 
as  the  curtains  parted  each  time,  a  flash  of  red 
lights  illuminated  the  tableaux. 

It  was  like  a  glimpse  of  fairy-land  to  Mary,  and 
she  had  the  double  enjoyment  of  watching  the  ar- 
rangement of  each  group  behind  the  scenes,  and 
then  hurrying  back  with  Elise  to  their  chairs  in  the 


AT  THE  BEECHES  1 29 

front  row,  just  as  Ranald  gave  the  signal  to  burn 
the  red  lights. 

There  was  the  usual  confusion  in  the  dressing- 
room,  the  tea-house  having  been  taken  for  that 
purpose.  There  was  more  than  usual  in  some  in- 
stances, for  while  the  fete  had  been  planned  for 
some  time,  the  tableaux  were  an  afterthought,  and 
many  details  had  been  overlooked.  Still,  with 
slight  delays,  they  moved  along  toward  a  successful 
finish. 

Group  by  group  posed  for  its  particular  picture 
and  returned  to  seats  in  the  audience  to  enjoy  the 
remainder  of  the  performance.  At  last  only  three 
people  were  left  in  the  tea-house,  and  Miss  Allison 
sent  Keith,  Rob,  Phil,  and  Lieutenant  Logan  be- 
fore the  curtain,  with  instructions  to  sing  one  of 
the  longest  songs  they  knew  and  two  encores,  while 
Gibbs  repaired  the  prow  of  the  funeral  barge. 
Some  one  had  used  it  for  a  step-ladder,  and  had 
broken  it. 

Mary,  waiting  in  the  audience  till  the  quartette 
had  finished  its  first  song,  did  not  appear  on  the 
scene  behind  the  curtain  until  Malcolm  was  dressed 
in  his  black  robe  and  long  white  beard  and  wig, 
and  Lloyd  was  laid  out  on  the  black  bier. 

"  Stay  just  as  you  are,"  whispered  Miss  Allison. 


I3O    THE  LITTLE   COLONEL:    MAID   OF  HONOR 

"  It's  perfect.  I'm  going  out  into  the  audience  to 
enjoy  the  effect  as  the  curtain  rises." 

As  she  passed  Miss  Casey,  the  elocutionist,  she 
felt  some  one  catch  her  sleeve.  "  I've  left  that 
copy  of  Tennyson  at  the  house,"  she  gasped. 
"What  shall  I  do?" 

"  I'll  run  and  get  it,"  volunteered  Elise  in  a 
whisper,  and  promptly  started  off.  Mary,  stand- 
ing back  in  the  shadow  of  a  tall  lilac  bush,  clasped 
her  hands  in  silent  admiration  of  the  picture.  It 
was  wonderful  how  the  moonlight  transformed 
everything.  Here  was  the  living,  breathing  poem 
itself  before  her.  She  forgot  it  was  Lloyd  and  Mal- 
colm posing  in  makeshift  costumes  on  a  calico- 
covered  dry  goods  box.  It  seemed  the  barge  itself, 
draped  all  in  blackest  samite,  going  upward  with 
the  flood,  that  day  that  there  was  dole  in  Astolat. 
While  she  gazed  like  one  in  a  dream,  Lloyd  half- 
opened  her  eyes,  to  peep  at  the  old  boatman. 

"  I  wish"  they'd  hurry,"  she  said,  in  a  low  tone. 
"  I  never  felt  so  foolish  in  my  whole  life." 

"  And  never  looked  more  beautiful,"  Malcolm 
answered,  trying  to  get  another  glimpse  of  her  with- 
out changing  his  pose. 

"  Sh,"  she  whispered  back,  saucily.  "  You  for- 
get that  you  are  dumb.  You  mustn't  say  a  word." 


AT  THE  BEECHES  131 

"  I  will,"  he  answered,  in  a  loud  whisper.  "  For 
even  if  I  were  really  dumb  I  think  I  should  find  my 
voice  to  tell  you  that  with  your  hair  rippling  down 
on  that  cloth  of  gold  in  the  moonlight,  and  all  in 
white,  with  that  lily  in  your  hand,  you  look  like  an 
angel,  and  I'm  in  the  seventh  heaven  to  be  here 
with  you  in  this  boat." 

"  And  with  you  in  that  white  hair  and  beard  I 
feel  as  if  it  were  Fathah  Time  paying  me  compli- 
ments," said  Lloyd,  her  cheeks  dimpling  with  amuse- 
ment. "  Hush !  It's  time  for  me  to  look  dead," 
she  warned,  as  the  applause  followed  the  last  en- 
core. "  Don't  say  anything  to  make  me  laugh. 
I'm  trying  to  look  as  if  I  had  died  of  a  broken 
heart." 

Elise  darted  back  just  as  the  prompter's  bell  rang, 
and  Mary,  turning  to  follow  her  to  their  seats  in  the 
audience,  saw  Miss  Casey  tragically  throw  up  her 
hands,  with  a  horrified  exclamation.  It  was  not 
the  copy  of  Tennyson  Elise  had  brought  her.  In 
her  haste  she  had  snatched  up  a  volume  of  essays 
bound  in  the  same  blue  and  gold. 

"  Go  on !  "  whispered  Malcolm,  sternly.  "  Say 
something.  At  least  go  out  and  explain  the  ta- 
bleau in  your  own  words.  There  are  lots  of  people 
who  won't  know  what  we  are  aiming  at." 


132    THE  LITTLE   COLONEL:  MAID    OF  HONOR 

Miss  Casey  only  wrung  her  hands.  "  Oh,  I  can't! 
I  can't !  "  she  answered,  hoarsely.  "  I  couldn't 
think  of  a  word  before  all  those  people !  "  As  the 
curtain  drew  slowly  apart,  she  covered  her  face  with 
her  hands  and  sank  back  out  of  sight  in  the  shrub- 
bery. 

The  curtain-shifter  had  answered  the  signal  of 
the  prompter's  bell,  which  at  Miss  Allison's  direc- 
tion was  to  be  rung  immediately  after  the  last  ap- 
plause. Neither  knew  of  the  dilemma. 

A  long-drawn  "  O-o-oh  "  greeted  the  beautiful 
tableau,  and  then  there  was  a  silence  that  made  Miss 
Allison  rise  half-way  in  her  seat,  to  see  what  had 
become  of  the  interpreter.  Then  she  sank  back 
again,  for  a  clear,  strong  voice,  not  Miss  Casey's, 
took  up  the  story. 

"And  that  day  there  was  dole  in  Astolat. 
Then  rose  the  dumb  old  servitor,  and  the  dead, 
Oared  by  the  dumb,  went  upward  with  the  flood." 

She  did  not  know  who  had  sprung  to  the  rescue, 
but  Joyce,  who  recognized  Mary's  voice,  felt  a  thrill 
of  pride  that  she  was  doing  it  so  well.  It  was  better 
than  Miss  Casey's  rendering,  for  it  was  without 
any  professional  frills  and  affectations;  just  the 
simple  story  told  in  the  simplest  way  by  one  who 


AT   THE   BEECHES  133 

felt  to  the  fullest  the  beauty  of  the  picture  and  the 
music  of  the  poem. 

The  red  lights  flared  up,  and  again  the  exclama- 
tion of  pleasure  swept  through  the  audience,  for 
Lloyd,  lying  on  the  black  bier  with  her  hair  rippling 
down  and  the  lily  in  her  hand,  might  indeed  have 
been  the  dead  Elaine,  so  ethereal  and  fair  she 
seemed  in  that  soft  glow.  Three  times  the  cur- 
tains were  parted,  and  even  then  the  enthusiastic 
guests  kept  applauding. 

There  was  a  rush  from  the  seats,  and  half  a  dozen 
admiring  friends  pushed  between  the  curtains  to 
offer  congratulations.  But  before  they  reached  her, 
Lloyd  had  rolled  off  her  bier  to  catch  Mary  in  an 
impulsive  hug,  crying,  "  You  were  a  perfect  dar- 
ling to  save  the  day  that  way!  Wasn't  she,  Mal- 
colm? It  was  wondahful  that  you  happened  to 
know  it!  " 

The  next  moment  she  had  turned  to  Judge  Moore 
and  Alex  Shelby  and  the  ladies  who  were  with  them, 
to  explain  how  Mary  had  had  the  presence  of  mind 
and  the  ability  to  throw  herself  into  Miss  Casey's 
place  on  the  spur  of  the  moment,  and  turn  a  failure 
into  a  brilliant  success.  The  congratulations  and 
compliments  which  she  heard  on  every  side  were 
very  sweet  to  Mary's  ears,  and  when  Phil  came  up 


134    THE  LITTLE   COLONEL:  MAID   OF  HONOR 

a  little  later  to  tell  her  that  she  was  a  brick-  and 
the  heroine  of  the  evening,  she  laughed  happily. 

"  Where  is  the  fair  Elaine?  "  he  asked  next.  "  I 
see  her  boat  is  empty.  Can  you  tell  me  where  she 
has  drifted?" 

"  No,"  answered  Mary,  so  eager  to  be  of  serv- 
ice that  she  was  ready  to  tell  all  she  knew.  "  She 
was  here  with  Sir  Feal  till  just  a  moment  ago." 

"  Sir  Feal !  "  echoed  Phil,  in  amazement. 

"  Oh,  I  forgot  that  you  don't  know  the  Princess 
play.  I  meant  Mister  Malcolm.  While  so  many 
people  were  in  here  congratulating  us  and  shak- 
ing hands,  I  heard  him  say  something  to  her  in 
an  undertone,  and  then  he  sang  sort  of  under  his 
breath,  you  know,  so  that  nobody  else  but  me  heard 
him,  that  verse  from  the  play: 

" '  Go  bid  the  Princess  in  the  tower 
Forget  all  thought  of  sorrow. 
Her  true  love  will  return  to  her 
With  joy  on  some  glad  morrow.' 

"Then  he  bent  over  her  and  said  still  lower, 
'By  my  calendar  it's  the  glad  morrow  now,  Prin- 
cess/ 

"  He  went  on  just  like  he  was  in  the  play,  you 
know.  I  suppose  they  have  rehearsed  it  so  much 
that  it  is  sort  of  second  nature  for  them  to  talk 


AT  THE  BEECHES  135 

in  that  old-time  way,  like  kings  and  queens  used 
to  do." 

"  Maybe,"  answered  Phil.  "  Then  what  did  she 
say?''  he  demanded,  frowning. 

"  I  don't  know.  She  walked  off  toward  the 
house  with  him,  and  that's  the  last  I  saw  of  them. 
Why,  what's  the  matter  ?  " 

"  Oh,  nothing !  "  he  replied,  with  a  shrug  of  his 
shoulders.  "  Nothing's  the  matter,  little  Vicar. 
Let  us  keep  inflexible,  and  fortune  will  at  last 
change  in  our  favor." 

"Now  whatever  did  he  mean  by  that!"  ex- 
claimed Mary,  as  she  watched  him  walk  away.  It 
puzzled  her  all  the  rest  of  the  evening  that  he  should 
have  .met  her  question  with  the  family  motto. 


CHAPTER    IX. 

"  SOMETHING   BLUE  " 

A  RAINY  day  followed  the  lawn  fete,  such  a 
steady  pour  that  little  rivers  ran  down  the  win- 
dow-panes, and  the  porches  had  to  be  abandoned. 
But  nobody  lamented  the  fact  that  they  were  driven 
indoors.  Rob  and  Joyce  began  a  game  of  chess 
in  the  library.  Lloyd  and  Phil  turned  over  the 
music  in  the  cabinet  until  they  found  a  pile  of 
duets  which  they  both  knew,  and  began  to  try 
them,  first  to  the  accompaniment  of  the  piano,  then 
the  harp. 

Mary,  sitting  in  the  hall  where  she  could  see 
both  the  chess-players  and  the  singers,  waited  in 
a  state  of  bliss  to  be  summoned  to  the  sewing- 
room.  Only  that  morning  it  had  been  discovered 
that  there  was  enough  pink  chiffon  left,  after  the 
bridesmaids'  gowns  were  completed,  to  make  her 
a  dress,  and  the  seamstress  was  at  work  upon  it 
now.  So  it  was  a  gay,  rose-colored  world  to  Mary 
136 


"SOMETHING   BLUE  n  137 

this  morning,  despite  the  leaden  skies  and  pouring 
rain  outside.  Not  only  was  she  to  have  a  dress, 
the  material  for  which  had  actually  been  brought 
from  Paris,  but  she  was  to  have  little  pink  satin 
slippers  like  the  bridesmaids,  and  she  was  to  have 
a  proud  place  in  the  wedding  itself.  When  the 
bridal  party  came  down  the  stairs,  it  was  to  be  her 
privilege  to  swing  wide  the  gate  of  roses  for  them 
to  pass  through. 

Joyce  had  designed  the  gate.  It  was  to  be  a 
double  one,  swung  in  the  arch  between  the  hall  and 
the  drawing-room,  and  it  would  take  hundreds  of 
roses  to  make  it,  the  florist  said. 

In  Mary's  opinion  the  office  of  gate-opener  was 
more  to  be  desired  than  that  of  bridesmaid.  As 
she  sat  listening  to  the  music,  curled  up  in  a  big 
hall  chair  like  a  contented  kitten,  she  decided  that 
there  was  nobody  in  all  the  world  with  whom  she 
would  change  places.  There  had  been  times 
when  she  would  have  exchanged  gladly  with  Joyce, 
thinking  of  the  artist  career  ahead  of  her,  or  with 
Betty,  who  was  sure  to  be  a  famous  author  some 
day,  or  with  Lloyd,  who  seemed  to  have  everything 
that  heart  could  wish,  or  with  Eugenia  with  all 
her  lovely  presents  and  trousseau  and  the  new 
home  on  the  Hudson  waiting  for  her.  But  just 


138    THE  LITTLE    COLONEL:   MAID   OF  HONOR 

now  she  was  so  happy  that  she  wouldn't  even  have 
stepped  into  a  fairy-tale. 

Presently,  through  the  dripping  window-panes, 
she  saw  Alec  plodding  up  the  avenue  under  an  um- 
brella, his  pockets  bulging  with  mail  packages, 
papers,  and  letters.  Betty,  at  her  window  up-stairs, 
saw  him  also,  and  came  running  down  the  steps, 
followed  by  Eugenia.  The  old  Colonel,  hearing  the 
call,  "  The  mail's  here,"  opened  the  door  of  his  den, 
and  joined  the  group  in  the  hall  where  Betty  pro- 
ceeded to  sort  out  the  letters.  A  registered  package 
from  Stuart  was  the  first  thing  that  Eugenia  tore 
open,  and  the  others  looked  up  from  their  letters 
at  her  pleased  exclamation: 

"  Oh,  it's  the  charms  for  the  bride's  cake !  " 

"  Ornaments  for  the  top  ?  "  asked  Rob,  as  she 
lifted  the  layer  of  jeweller's  cotton  and  disclosed 
a  small  gold  thimble,  and  a  narrow  wedding- 
ring. 

"  No !  Who  ever  heard  of  such  a  thing !  "  she 
laughed.  "  Haven't  you  heard  of  the  traditional 
charms  that  must  be  baked  in  a  bride's  cake?  It 
is  a  token  of  the  fate  one  may  expect  who  finds 
it  in  his  slice  of  cake.  Eliot  taught  me  the  old 
rhyme: 


"SOMETHING   BLUE"  139 

"  •  Four  tokens  must  the  bridescake  hold : 
A  silver  shilling  and  a  ring  of  gold, 
A  crystal  charm  good  luck  to  symbol, 
And  for  the  spinster's  hand  a  thimble.' 


"  Eliot  firmly  believes  that  the  tokens  are  a 
prophecy,  for  years  ago,  at  her  cousin's  wedding 
in  England,  she  got  the  spinster's  thimble.  The 
girl  who  found  the  ring  was  married  within  the 
year,  and  the  one  who  found  the  shilling  shortly 
came  into  an  inheritance.  True,  it  didn't  amount  to 
much,  —  about  five  pounds,  —  but  the  coincidence 
firmly  convinced  Eliot  of  the  truth  of  the  super- 
stition. In  this  country  people  usually  take  a  dime 
instead  of  a  shilling,  but  I  told  Stuart  that  I  wanted 
to  follow  the  custom  strictly  to  the  letter.  And 
look  what  a  dear  he  is !  Here  is  a  bona  fide  Eng- 
lish shilling,  that  he  took  the  trouble  to  get  for 
me." 

Phil  took  up  the  bit  of  silver  she  had  placed 
beside  the  thimble  and  the  ring,  and  looked  it  over 
critically.  "Well,  I'll  declare!"  he  exclaimed. 
"  That  was  Aunt  Patricia's  old  shilling !  I'd  swear 
to  it.  See  the  way  the  hole  is  punched,  just 
between  those  two  ugly  old  heads  ?  And  I  remem- 
ber the  dent  just  below  the  date.  Looks  as  if  some 
one  had  tried  to  bite  it.  Aunt  Patricia  used  to 


140    THE  LITTLE  COLONEL:   MAID   OF  HONOR 

keep  it  in  her  treasure-box  with  her  gold  beads 
and  other  keepsakes." 

The  old  Colonel,  who  had  once  had  a  fad  for 
collecting  coins,  and  owned  a  large  assortment,  held 
out  his  hand  for  it.  Adjusting  his  glasses,  he  ex- 
amined it  carefully.  "  Ah !  Most  interesting,"  he 
observed.  "  Coined  in  the  reign  of  '  Bloody  Mary,' 
and  bearing  the  heads  of  Queen  Mary  and  King 
Philip.  You  remember  this  shilling  is  mentioned 
in  Butler's  '  Hudibras : ' 

«« «  Still  amorous  and  fond  and  billing, 
Like  Philip  and  Mary  on  a  shilling.' 

"  You  couldn't  have  a  more  appropriate  token 
for  your  cake,  my  dear,"  he  said  to  Eugenia  with 
a  smile.  Then  he  laid  it  on  the  table,  and  taking 
up  his  papers,  passed  back  into  his  den. 

"  That's  the  first  time  I  ever  heard  my  name 
in  a  poem,"  said  Phil.  "  By  rights  I  ought  to 
draw  that  shilling  in  my  share  of  cake.  If  I  do 
I  shall  take  it  as  a  sign  that  history  is  going  to 
repeat  itself,  and  shall  look  around  for  a  ladye-love 
named  Mary.  Now  I  know  a  dozen  songs  with 
that  name,  and  such  things  always  come  in  handy 
when  'a  frog  he  would  a-wooing  go.'  There's 
'  My  Highland  Mary '  and  '  Mary  of  Argyle,'  and 


"SOMETHING  BLUE"  I/J.I 

'  Mistress  Mary,  quite  contrary/  and  '  Mary,  call 
the  cattle  home,  across  the  sands  of  Dee ! ' ' 

As  he  rattled  thoughtlessly  on,  nothing  was 
farther  from  his  thoughts  than  the  self-conscious 
little  Mary  just  behind  him.  Nobody  saw  her  face 
grow  red,  however,  for  Lloyd's  exclamation  over 
the  last  token  made  every  one  crowd  around  her 
to  see. 

It  was  a  small  heart-shaped  charm  of  crystal, 
probably  intended  for  a  watch-fob.  There  was  a 
four-leaf  clover,  somehow  mysteriously  imbedded 
in  the  centre. 

"  That  ought  to  be  doubly  lucky,"  said  Eugenia. 
"  Oh,  what  a  dear  Stuart  was  to  take  so  much 
trouble  to  get  the  very  nicest  things.  They  couldn't 
be  more  suitable." 

"  Eugenia,"  asked  Betty,  "  have  you  thought  of 
that  other  rhyme  that  brides  always  consider?  You 
know  you  should  wear 

" «  Something  old,  something  new, 

Something  borrowed,  something  blue.'  ** 

"Yes,  Eliot  insisted  on  that,  too.  The  whole 
outfit  will,  itself,  be  something  new,  the  lace  that 
was  on  my  mother's  wedding-gown  will  be  the 
something  old.  I  thought  I'd  borrow  a  hairpin 


142    THE  LITTLE   COLONEL:  MAID   OF  HONOR 

apiece  from  you  girls,  and  I  haven't  decided  yet 
about  the  something  blue." 

"  No,"  objected  Lloyd.  "  The  borrowed  articles 
ought  to  be  something  really  valuable.  Let  me 
lend  you  my  little  pearl  clasps  to  fasten  your  veil, 
and  then  for  the  something  blue,  there  is  your  tur- 
quoise butterfly.  You  can  slip  it  on  somewhere, 
undah  the  folds  of  lace." 

"  What  a  lot  of  fol-de-rol  there  is  about  a  wed- 
ding," said  Rob.  "  As  if  it  made  a  particle  of 
difference  whether  you  wear  pink  or  green!  Why 
must  it  be  blue?" 

There  was  an  indignant  protest  from  all  the  girls, 
and  Rob  made  his  escape  to  the  library,  calling  to 
Joyce  to  come  and  finish  the  game  of  chess. 

That  evening,  Mary,  sitting  on  the  floor  of  the 
library  in  front  of  the  Poets'  Corner,  took  down 
volume  after  volume  to  scan  its  index.  She  was 
looking  for  the  songs  Phil  had  mentioned,  which 
contained  her  name.  At  the  same  time  she  also 
kept  watch  for  the  name  of  Philip.  She  remem- 
bered she  had  read  some  lines  one  time  about 
"  Philip  my  King." 

As  she  pored  over  the  poems  in  the  dim  light, 
for  only  the  shaded  lamp  on  the  central  table  was 
burning,  she  heard  steps  on  the  porch  outside.  The 


"SOMETHING  BLUE"  143 

rain  had  stopped  early  in  the  afternoon,  and  the 
porches  had  dried  so  that  the  hammocks  and  chairs 
could  be  put  out  again.  Now  voices  sounded  just 
outside  the  window  where  she  sat,  and  the  creaking 
of  a  screw  in  the  post  told  that  some  one  was  sitting 
in  the  hammock.  Evidently  it  was  Lloyd,  for  Phil's 
voice  sounded  nearer  the  window.  He  had  seated 
himself  in  the  armchair  that  always  stood  in  that 
niche,  and  was  tuning  a  guitar.  As  soon  as  it  was 
keyed  up  to  his  satisfaction,  he  began  thrumming 
on  it,  a  sort  of  running  accompaniment  to  their 
conversation. 

It  did  not  occur  to  Mary  that  she  was  eavesdrop- 
ping, for  they  were  talking  of  impersonal  things, 
just  the  trifles  of  the  hour;  and  she  caught  only 
a  word  now  and  then  as  she  scanned  the  -story  of 
Enoch  Arden.  The  name  Philip,  in  it,  had  arrested 
her  attention. 

"  I  think  the  maid  of  honor  ought  to  wear  some- 
thing blue  as  well  as  the  bride,"  remarked  Phil. 

"Why?"  asked  Lloyd. 

There  was  such  a  long  pause  that  Mary  looked 
up,  wondering  why  he  did  not  answer. 

"  Why?"  asked  Lloyd  again. 

Phil  thrummed  on  a  moment  longer,  and  then 
began  playing  in  a  soft  minor  key,  and  his  answer, 


144    THE  LITTLE  COLONEL:    MAID   OF  HONOR 

when  it  finally  came,  seemed  at  first  to  have  no  con- 
nection with  what  he  had  been  talking  about. 

"  Do  you  remember  when  we  were  in  Arizona, 
the  picnic  we  had  at  Hole-in-the-rock,  and  the  story 
that  that  old  Norwegian  told  about  Alaka,  the 
gambling  god,  who  lost  his  string  of  precious  tur- 
quoises and  even  his  eyes  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

Mary  looked  up  from  her  book,  listening  alertly. 
The  mystery  of  years  was  about  to  be  explained. 

"  Well,  do  you  remember  a  conversation  you  had 
with  Joyce  about  it  afterward,  in  which  you  called 
the  turquoise  the  '  friendship  stone/  because  it  was 
true  blue?  And  you  said  it  was  a  pity  that  some 
people  you  knew,  not  a  thousand  miles  away, 
couldn't  go  to  the  School  of  the  Bees,  and  learn 
that  line  from  Watts  about  Satan  finding  mischief 
for  idle  hands  to  do.  And  Joyce  said  yes,  it  was 
too  bad  for  a  fine  fellow  to  get  into  trouble  just 
because  he  was  a  drone,  and  had  no  ambition  to 
make  anything  of  himself;  that  if  Alaka  had  gone 
to  the  School  of  the  Bees  he  wouldn't  have  lost 
his  eyes.  And  then  you  said  that  if  somebody  kept 
on  he  would  at  least  lose  his  turquoises.  Do  you 
remember  all  that  ?  " 

The  screw  in  the  post  stopped  creaking  as  Lloyd 


"SOMETHING  BLUE"  145 

sat  straight  up  in  the  hammock  to  exclaim  in 
astonishment :  "  Yes,  I  remembah,  but  how  undah 
the  sun,  Phil  Tremont,  do  you  happen  to  know 
anything  about  that  convahsation  ?  You  were  not 
there." 

"  No,  but  little  Mary  Ware  was.  She  didn't 
have  the  faintest  idea  that  you  meant  me,  and  that 
Sunday  morning  when  I  called  at  the  Wigwam  for 
the  last  time  to  make  my  apologies  and  farewells, 
and  you  were  not  there,  she  told  me  all  about  it 
like  the  blessed  little  chatterbox  that  she  was.  Then, 
when  I  saw  plainly  that  I  had  forfeited  my  right 
to  your  friendship,  I  did  not  wait  to  say  good-by, 
just  left  a  message  for  you  with  Mary.  I  knew 
she  would  attempt  to  deliver  it,  but  I  have  won- 
dered many  times  since  if  she  gave  it  in  the  words 
I  told  her.  Of  course  I  couldn't  expect  you  to 
remember  the  exact  words  after  all  this  time." 

"  But  it  happens  that  I  do,"  answered  Lloyd. 
"  She  said,  '  Alaka  has  lost  his  precious  turquoises, 
but  he  will  win  them  back  again  some  day.'  " 
"Did  you  understand  what  I  meant,  Lloyd?" 
"  Well,  I  —  I  guessed  at  yoah  meaning." 
"  Mary  unwittingly  did  me   a  good   turn   that 
morning.      She  was  an   angel  unawares,   for  she 
showed  me  myself  as  you  saw  me,  a  drone  in  the 


146    THE  LITTLE   COLONEL:   MAID   OF  HONOR 

hive,  with  no  ambition,  and  the  gambling  fever 
in  my  veins  making  a  fool  of  me.  I  went  away 
vowing  I  would  win  back  your  respect  and  make 
myself  worthy  of  your  friendship,  and  I  can  say 
honestly  that  I  have  kept  that  vow.  Soon  after, 
while  I  was  out  on  that  first  surveying  trip  I  came 
across  some  unset  stones  for  a  mere  song.  This 
little  turquoise  was  among  them."  He  took  the 
tiny  stone  from  his  pocket  and  held  it  out  on  his 
palm,  so  that  the  light  streaming  out  from  the 
library  fell  across  it. 

"  I  have  carried  it  ever  since.  Many  a  time  it 
has  reminded  me  of  you  and  your  good  opinion 
I  was  trying  to  win  back.  I've  had  lots  of  tempta- 
tions to  buck  against,  and  there  have  been  times 
when  they  almost  downed  me,  but  I  say  it  in  all 
humility,  Lloyd,  this  little  bit  of  turquoise  kept 
me  '  true  blue,'  and  I've  lived  straight  enough  to 
ask  you  to  take  it  now,  in  token  that  you  do  think 
me  worthy  of  your  friendship.  When  I  heard 
Eugenia  talking  about  wearing  something  blue  at 
the  wedding,  I  had  a  fancy  that  it  would  be  an 
appropriate  thing  for  the  maid  of  honor  to  do,  too." 

Lloyd  took  the  little  stone  he  offered,  and  held 
it  up  to  the  light. 

"  It  certainly  is  true  blue,"  she  said,  with  a  smile, 


"SOMETHING  BLUE"  Itf 

"  and  I'm  suah  you  are  too,  now.  I  didn't  need 
this  to  tell  me  how  well  you've  been  doing  since 
you  left  Arizona.  We've  heard  a  great  deal  about 
yoah  successes  from  Cousin  Carl." 

"  Then  let  me  have  it  set  in  a  ring  for  you,"  he 
added.  "  There  will  be  plenty  of  time  before  the 
wedding." 

"  No,"  she  answered,  hastily.  "  I  couldn't  do 
that.  Papa  Jack  wouldn't  like  it.  He  wouldn't 
allow  me  to  accept  anything  from  a  man  in  the 
way  of  jewelry,  you  know.  I  couldn't  take  it  as  a 
ring.  Now  just  this  little  unset  stone "  —  she 
hesitated.  "Just  this  bit  of  a  turquoise  that  you 
say  cost  only  a  trifle,  I'm  suah  he  wouldn't  mind 
that.  I'll  tell  him  it's  just  my  friendship  stone." 

"  What  a  particular  little  maid  of  honor  you 
are !  "  he  exclaimed.  "  How  many  girls  of  seventeen 
do  you  know  who  would  take  the  trouble  to  go  to 
their  fathers  with  a  trifle  like  that,  and  make  a 
careful  explanation  about  it?  Besides,  you  can't 
tell  him  that  it  is  only  a  friendship  stone.  I  want 
it  to  mean  more  than  that  to  you,  Lloyd.  I  want 
it  to  stand  for  a  great  deal  more  between  us. 
Don't  you  see  how  I  care  —  how  I  must  have  cared 
all  this  time,  to  let  the  thought  of  you  make  such  a 
difference  in  my  life?" 


148    THE  LITTLE   COLONEL:  MAID   OF  HONOR 

There  was  no  mistaking  the  deep  tenderness  of 
his  voice  or  the  earnestness  of  his  question.  Lloyd 
felt  the  blood  surge  up  in  her  face  and  her  heart 
throbbed  so  fast  she  could  hear  it  beat.  But  she 
hastily  thrust  back  the  proffered  turquoise,  saying, 
in  confusion: 

"  Then  I  can't  wear  it !  Take  it  back,  please ; 
I  promised  Papa  Jack  —  " 

"  Promised  him  what?  "  asked  Phil,  as  she  hesi- 
tated. 

"  Well,  it's  rathah  hard  to  explain,"  she  began 
in  much  confusion,  "  unless  you  knew  the  story  of 
'  The  Three  Weavahs.'  Then  you'd  undahstand." 

"  But  I  don't  know  it,  and  I'd  rather  like  an 
explanation  of  some  kind.  I  think  you'll  have  to 
make  it  clear  to  me  why  you  can't  accept  it,  and 
what  it  was  you  promised  your  father." 

"  Oh,  I  can't  tell  it  to  make  it  sound  like  any- 
thing," she  began,  desperately.  "  It  was  like  this. 
No,  I  can't  tell  it.  Come  in  the  house,  and  I'll  get 
the  book  and  let  you  read  it  for  yoahself." 

"  No,  I'd  rather  hear  the  reason  from  your  own 
lips.  Besides,  some  one  would  interrupt  us  in 
there,  and  I  want  to  understand  where  I'm  '  at ' 
before  that  happens." 

"  Well,"  she  began  again,  "  it  is  a  story  Mrs. 


"SOMETHING  BLUE"  149 

Walton  told  us  once  when  our  Shadow  Qub  was 
in  disgrace,  because  one  of  the  girls  eloped,  and 
we  were  all  in  such  trouble  about  it  that  we  vowed 
we'd  be  old  maids.  Afterward  it  was  the  cause 
of  our  forming  another  club  that  we  called  the 
'  Ordah  of  Hildegarde.'  I'll  give  you  a  sawt  of 
an  outline  now,  if  you'll  promise  to  read  the  entiah 
thing  aftahward." 

"I'll  promise,"  agreed  Phil. 

"  Then,  this  is  it.  Once  there  were  three  maidens, 
of  whom  it  was  written  in  the  stahs  that  each  was 
to  wed  a  prince,  provided  she  could  weave  a  mantle 
that  should  fit  his  royal  shouldahs  as  the  falcon's 
feathahs  fit  the  falcon.  Each  had  a  mirror  beside 
her  loom  like  the  Lady  of  Shalott's  in  which  the 
shadows  of  the  world  appeahed. 

"  One  maiden  wove  in  secret,  and  falling  in  love 
with  a  page  who  daily  passed  her  mirror,  imagined 
him  to  be  a  prince,  and  wove  her  web  to  fit  his  un- 
worthy shouldahs.  Of  co'se  when  the  real  prince 
came  it  was  too  small,  and  so  she  missed  the  hap- 
piness that  was  written  for  her  in  the  stahs. 

"  The  second  squandahed  her  warp  of  gold  first 
on  one,  then  anothah,  weaving  mantles  for  any 
one  who  happened  to  take  her  fancy  —  a  shepherd 
boy  and  a  troubador,  a  student  and  a  knight. 


I5O     THE  LITTLE   COLONEL:  MAID   OF  HONOR 

When  her  prince  rode  by  she  had  nothing  left  to 
offah  him,  so  she  missed  her  life's  happiness. 

"  But  the  third  had  a  deah  old  fathah  like  Papa 
Jack,  and  he  gave  her  a  silvah  yahdstick  on  which 
was  marked  the  inches  and  ells  that  a  true  prince 
ought  to  be.  And  he  warned  her  like  this: 

"  '  Many  youths  will  come  to  thee,  each  begging, 
"  Give  me  the  royal  mantle,  Hildegarde.  /  am  the 
prince  the  stahs  have  destined  for  thee."  And 
with  honeyed  words  he'll  show  thee  how  the  man- 
tle in  the  loom  is  just  the  length  to  fit  his  shoul- 
dahs.  But  let  him  not  persuade  thee  to  cut  it 
loose  and  give  it  to  him  as  thy  young  fingahs  will 
be  fain  to  do.  Weave  on  anothah  yeah  and  yet 
anothah,  till  thou,  a  woman  grown,  can  measuah 
out  a  perfect  web,  moah  ample  than  these  stripling 
youths  could  carry,  but  which  will  fit  thy  prince 
in  faultlessness,  as  the  falcon's  feathahs  fit  the 
falcon.' 

"  Then  Hildegarde  took  the  silvah  yahdstick 
and  said,  '  You  may  trust  me,  fathah.  I  will  not 
cut  the  golden  warp  from  out  the  loom,  until  I, 
a  woman  grown,  have  woven  such  a  web  as  thou 
thyself  shalt  say  is  worthy  of  a  prince's  wearing.' 
(That's  what  I  promised  Papa  Jack.) 

"  Of  co'se  it  turned  out,  that  one  day  with  her 


"SOMETHING  BLUE"  15 1 

fathah's  blessing  light  upon  her,  she  rode  away 
beside  the  prince,  and  evah  aftah  all  her  life  was 
crowned  with  happiness,  as  it  had  been  written 
for  her  in  the  stahs." 

There  was  a  long  pause  when  she  finished,  so 
long  that  the  silence  began  to  grow  painful.  Then 
Phil  said,  slowly: 

"  I  understand  now.  Would  you  mind  telling 
me  what  the  measure  was  your  father  gave  you 
that  your  prince  must  be  ?  " 

"  There  were  three  notches.  He  must  be  clean 
and  honahable  and  strong." 

There  was  another  long  pause  before  Phil  said, 
"  Well,  I  wouldn't  be  measuring  up  to  that  second 
notch  if  I  asked  you  to  break  your  promise  to 
your  father,  and  you  wouldn't  do  it  even  if  I  did. 
So  there's  nothing  more  for  me  to  say  at  present. 
But  I'll  ask  this  much.  You'll  keep  the  turquoise 
if  we  count  it  merely  a  friendship  stone,  won't 
you  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I'll  be  glad  to  do  that.  And  I'll  weah 
it  at  the  wedding  if  you  want  me  to,  as  my  bit 
of  something  blue.  I'll  slip  it  down  into  my 
glove." 

"Thank  you,"  he  answered,  then  added,  after 
a  pause :  "  And  I  suppose  there's  another  thing. 


I$2    THE  LITTLE    COLONEL:  MAID   OF  HONOR 

That  yardstick  keeps  all  the  other  fellows  at  a  dis- 
tance, too.  That's  something  to  be  cheerful  over. 
But  you  mark  my  words  —  I'm  doing  a  bit  of 
prophesying  now  —  when  your  real  prince  comes 
you'll  know  him  by  this :  he'll  come  singing  this 
song.  Listen." 

Picking  up  his  guitar  again,  he  struck  one  full 
deep  chord  and  began  singing  softly  the  "  Bedouin 
Love-song,"  "  From  the  desert  I  come  to  thee." 
The  refrain  floated  tremulously  through  the  library 
window. 

«  Till  the  stars  are  old, 
And  the  sun  grows  cold, 
And  the  leaves  of  the  judgment 
Book  unfold." 

It  brought  back  the  whole  moonlighted  desert 
to  Lloyd,  with  the  odor  of  orange-blossoms  wafted 
across  it,  as  it  had  been  on  two  eventful  occasions 
they  rode  over  it  together.  She  sat  quite  still  in 
the  hammock,  with  the  bit  of  turquoise  clasped 
tight  in  her  hand.  It  was  hard  to  listen  to  such 
a  beautiful  voice  unmoved.  It  thrilled  her  as  no 
song  had  ever  done  before. 

As  it  floated  into  the  library,  it  thrilled  Mary 
also,  but  in  a  different  way;  for  with  a  guilty 


"SOMETHING  BLUEn  153 

start  she  realized  that  she  had  been  listening  to 
something  not  meant  for  her  to  hear. 

"  Oh,  what  have  I  done!  What  have  I  done! " 
she  whispered  to  herself,  dropping  the  book  and 
noiselessly  wringing  her  hands.  She  could  hear 
voices  on  the  stairs  now.  Eugenia  and  Betty  were 
coming  down,  and  Rob's  whistle  down  the  avenue 
told  that  he  was  on  his  way  to  join  them.  Too 
ashamed  to  face  any  one  just  then,  and  afraid  that 
her  guilty  face  would  betray  the  fact  to  Phil  and 
Lloyd  that  she  shared  their  secret,  she  hurried  out 
of  the  library  and  up  to  her  room,  where  Joyce 
was  rearranging  her  hair.  In  response  to  Joyce's 
question  about  her  coming  up  so  early  in  the  eve- 
ning, she  said  she  had  thought  of  something  she 
wanted  to  write  in  her  journal.  But  when  Joyce 
had  gone  down  she  did  not  begin  writing  imme- 
diately. Turning  down  the  lamp  until  the  room 
was  almost  in  darkness,  she  sat  with  her  elbows 
on  the  window-sill  staring  out  into  the  night. 

"  I  never  meant  to  do  it !  "  she  kept  explaining 
to  her  conscience.  "  It  just  did  itself.  It  seemed 
all  right  to  listen  at  first,  when  they  were  talking 
about  things  I  had  a  right  to  know,  and  then  I 
got  so  interested,  it  was  like  reading  a  story,  and 
I  couldn't  go  away  because  I  forgot  there  was  such 


154  THE  LITTLE  COLONEL:  MAID  OF  HONOR 

a  person  living  as  me.  But  Lloyd  mightn't  under- 
stand how  it  was.  She'd  scorn  to  be  an  eaves- 
dropper herself,  and  she'd  scorn  and  despise  me 
if  she  knew  that  I  just  sat  there  like  a  graven 
image  and  listened  to  Phil  the  same  as  propose 
to  her." 

Hitherto  Mary  had  looked  upon  Malcolm  as 
Lloyd's  especial  knight,  and  had  planned  to  be 
his  valiant  champion  should  need  for  her  services 
ever  arise.  But  this  put  matters  in  a  different 
light.  All  her  sympathies  were  enlisted  in  Phil's 
behalf  now.  She  liked  Phil  the  best,  and  she  wanted 
him  to  have  whatever  he  wanted.  He  had  called  her 
his  "  angel  unawares,"  and  she  wished  she  could 
do  something  to  further  deserve  that  title.  Then 
she  began  supposing  things. 

Suppose  she  should  come  tripping  down  the 
stairs  some  day  (this  would  be  sometime  in  the 
future,  of  course,  when  Lloyd's  promise  to  her 
father  was  no  longer  binding)  and  should  find  Phil 
pacing  the  room  with  impatient  strides  because 
the  maid  of  honor  had  gone  off  with  Sir  Feal  to 
the  opera  or  somewhere,  in  preference  to  him,  on 
account  of  some  misunderstanding.  "  The  little 
rift  within  the  lute "  would  be  making  the  best 


"SOMETHING  BLUE"  155 

man's  music  mute,  and  now  would  be  her  time  to 
play  angel  unawares  again. 

She  would  trip  in  lightly,  humming  a  song  per- 
haps, and  finding  him  moody  and  downcast,  would 
begin  the  conversation  with  some  appropriate  quo- 
tation. In  looking  through  the  dictionary  the  day 
before,  her  eye  had  caught  one  from  Shakespeare, 
which  she  had  stored  away  in  her  memory  to  use 
on  some  future  occasion.  Yes,  that  one  would  be 
very  appropriate  to  begin  the  conversation.  She 
would  go  up  to  him  and  say,  archly : 

"  My  lord  leans  wondrously  to  discontent. 
His  comfortable  temper  has  forsook  him." 

With  that  a  smile  would  flit  across  his  stern 
features,  and  presently  he  would  be  moved  to  con- 
fide in  her,  and  she  would  encourage  him.  Then, 
she  didn't  know  yet  exactly  in  what  way  it  could 
come  about,  she  would  do  something  to  bring  the 
two  together  again,  and  wipe  out  the  bitter  mis- 
understanding. 

It  was  a  very  pleasing  dream.  That  and  others 
like  it  kept  her  sitting  by  the  window  till  nearly 
bedtime.  Then,  just  before  the  girls  came  up- 
stairs, she  turned  up  the  lamp  and  made  an  entry 
in  her  journal.  With  the  fear  that  some  prying 


156    THE  LITTLE   COLONEL:  MAID   OF  HONOR 

eye  might  some  day  see  that  page,  she  omitted  all 
names,  using  only  initials.  It  would  have  puzzled 
the  Sphinx  herself  to  have  deciphered  that  entry, 
unless  she  had  guessed  that  the  initials  stood  for 
titles  instead  of  names.  The  last  paragraph  con- 
cluded :  "  It  now  lies  between  Sir  F.  and  the  B.  M., 
but  I  think  it  will  be  the  B.  M.  who  will  get  the 
mantle,  for  Sir  F.  and  his  brother  have  gone  away 
on  a  yachting  trip.  The  M.  of  H.  does  not  know 
that  I  know,  and  the  secret  weighs  heavy  on  my 
mind." 

She  was  in  bed  when  the  girls  came  up,  but  the 
door  into  the  next  room  stood  open  and  she  heard 
Betty  say,  "  Oh,  we  forgot  to  give  you  Alex 
Shelby's  message,  Lloyd.  Joyce  and  I  met  him  on 
our  way  to  the  post-office.  He  was  walking  with 
Bernice.  He  sent  his  greetings  to  the  fair  Elaine. 
He  fairly  raved  over  the  way  you  looked  in  that 
moonlight  tableau." 

"  It  was  evident  that  Bernice  didn't  enjoy  his 
raptures  very  much,"  added  Joyce.  "  Her  face 
showed  that  she  was  not  only  bored,  but  displeased." 

"  I  can  imagine  it,"  said  Lloyd.  "  Really,  girls, 
I  think  this  is  a  serious  case  with  Bernice.  She 
seems  to  think  moah  of  Mistah  Shelby  than  any 
one  who  has  evah  gone  to  see  her,  and  she  is  old 


"SOMETHING  BLUE"  157 

enough  now  to  have  it  mean  something.  She's 
neahly  twenty,  you  know.  I  do  hope  he  thinks  as 
much  of  her  as  she  does  of  him." 

"  There !  "  whispered  Mary  to  herself,  nodding 
wisely  in  the  darkness  of  her  room,  as  if  to  an  un- 
seen listener.  "  I  knew  it !  I  told  you  so !  All  the 
king's  horses  and  all  the  king's  men  couldn't  make 
me  believe  she'd  stoop  to  such  a  thing  as  that  nasty 
Bernice  Howe  insinuated.  She's  a  maid  of  honor 
in  every  way !  " 


CHAPTER   X. 

"  A    COON    HUNT  " 

THE  morning1  after  the  arrival  of  the  rest  of  the 
bridal  party,  Betty  was  out  of  bed  at  the  first  sound 
of  any  one  stirring  in  the  servants'  quarters.  She 
and  Lloyd  had  given  up  their  rooms  to  the  new 
gttests,  and  moved  back  into  the  sewing-room  to- 
gether. Now  in  order  not  to  awaken  Lloyd  she  tip- 
toed out  to  the  little  vine-covered  balcony,  through 
the  window  that  opened  into  it  from  the  sewing- 
room.  She  was  in  her  nightgown,  for  she  could 
not  wait  to  dress,  when  she  was  so  eager  to  find  out 
what  kind  of  a  day  Eugenia  was  to  have  for  her 
wedding. 

Not  a  cloud  was  in  sight.  It  was  as  perfect  as 
only  a  June  morning  can  be,  in  Kentucky.  The 
fresh  smell  of  dewy  roses  and  new-mown  grass 
mingled  with  the  pungent  smoke  of  the  wood  fire, 
just  beginning  to  curl  up  in  blue  rings  from  the 
kitchen  chimney.  Soft  twitterings  and  jubilant 
bird-calls  followed  the  flash  of  wings  from  tree  to 


"A    COON  HUNT"  159 

tree.  She  peeped  out  between  the  thick  mass  of 
wistaria  vines,  across  the  grassy  court,  formed  by 
the  two  rear  wings  of  the  house,  to  another  balcony 
opposite  the  one  in  which  she  stood.  It  opened  off 
Eugenia's  room,  and  was  almost  hidden  by  a  climb- 
ing rose,  which  made  a  perfect  bride's  bower,  with 
its  gorgeous  full-blown  Gloire  Dijon  roses. 

Stray  rhymes  and  words  suggestive  of  music  and 
color  and  the  morning's  glory  began  to  flit  through 
her  mind  as  she  stood  there,  as  if  a  little  poem  were 
about  to  start  to  life  with  a  happy  fluttering  of 
wings;  a  madrigal  of  June.  But  in  a  few  moments 
she  slipped  back  into  the  house  through  the  window, 
put  on  her  kimono  and  slippers,  and  gathering  up 
her  journal  in  one  hand  and  pen  and  ink  with  the 
other,  she  stole  back  to  the  balcony  again.  The 
seamstress  had  left  her  sewing-chair  out  there  the 
afternoon  she  finished  Mary's  dress,  and  it  still 
stood  there,  with  the  lap-board  beside  it.  Taking 
the  board  on  her  knees,  and  opening  her  journal 
upon  it,  Betty  perched  her  ink-bottle  on  the  balcony 
railing  and  began  to  write.  She  knew  there  would 
be  no  time  later  in  the  day  for  her  to  bring  her 
record  up-to-date,  and  she  did  not  want  to  let  the 
happenings  pile  up  unrecorded.  She  was  afraid  she 
might  leave  out  something  she  wanted  to  include, 


160    THE  LITTLE   COLONEL:  MAID   OF  HONOR 

and  she  had  found  that  the  trivial  conversations  and 
the  trifles  she  noted  were  often  the  things  whicn 
recalled  a  scene  most  vividly,  and  almost  made  it 
seem  to  live  again.  She  began  her  narrative  just 
where  she  had  left  off,  so  that  it  made  a  continuous 
story. 

"  We  didn't  settle  down  to  anything  yesterday 
morning.  Phil  went  to  town  with  Papa  Jack  di- 
rectly after  breakfast,  and  we  girls  just  strolled  up 
and  down  the  avenue  and  talked.  It  was  delight- 
fully cool  under  the  locusts,  and  we  knew  it  would 
be  our  last  morning  with  Eugenia;  that  after  the 
arrival  of  the  rest  of  the  bridal  party,  everything 
would  be  in  confusion  until  after  the  wedding,  and 
then  she  would  never  be  Eugenia  Forbes  again. 
She  would  be  Mrs.  Stuart  Tremont. 

"  She  told  us  that  her  being  married  wouldn't 
make  any  difference,  that  she'd  always  be  the  same 
to  us.  But  it's  bound  to  make  a  difference.  A  mar- 
ried woman  can't  be  interested  in  the  same  things 
that  young  girls  are.  Her  husband  is  bound  to 
come  first  in  her  consideration. 

"  Joyce  asked  her  if  it  didn't  make  her  feel  queer 
to  know  that  her  wedding-day  was  coming  closer 
and  closer,  and  quoted  that  line  from  '  The  Siege  of 
Lucknow/  — '  Day  by  day  the  Bengal  tiger  nearer 


«  A    COON  HUNT"  l6l 

drew  and  closer  crept'  She  said  she'd  have  a  fit  if 
she  knew  her  wedding-day  was  creeping  up  on  her 
that  way.  Eugenia  was  horrified  to  have  her  talk 
that  way,  and  said  that  it  was  because  she  didn't 
know  Stuart,  and  didn't  know  what  it  meant  to 
care  enough  for  a  man  to  be  glad  to  join  her  life 
to  his,  forever  and  ever.  There  was  such  a  light  in 
her  eyes  as  she  talked  about  him,  that  we  didn't  say 
anything  more  for  awhile,  just  wondered  how  it 
must  feel  to  be  so  supremely  happy  as  she  is.  There 
is  no  doubt  about  it,  he  is  certainly  the  one  written 
for  her  in  the  stars,  for  he  measures  up  to  every 
ideal  of  hers,  as  faultlessly  '  as  the  falcon's  feathers 
fit  the  falcon.' 

"  We  had  heard  so  much  from  her  and  Phil  about 
Doctor  Miles  Bradford,  Stuart's  friend  who  is 
coming  with  him  to  be  one  of  the  ushers,  that  we 
dreaded  meeting  him.  When  she  told  us  that  he  is 
from  Boston  and  belongs  to  one  of  its  most  ex- 
clusive families,  and  is  very  conventional,  and 
twenty-five  years  old,  Joyce  nicknamed  him  *  The 
Pilgrim  Father,'  and  vowed  she  woudn't  have  him 
for  her  attendant ;  that  I  had  to  take  him  and  let  her 
walk  in  with  Rob.  She  said  she'd  shock  .him  with 
her  wild  west  slang  and  uncivilized  ways,  and  that 


1 62    THE  LITTLE   COLONEL  :  MAID   OF  HONOR 

I  was  the  literary  lady  of  the  establishment,  and 
would  know  how  to  entertain  such  a  personage. 

"  I  was  just  as  much  afraid  of  him  as  she  was, 
and  wanted  Rob  myself,  so  we  squabbled  over  it  all 
the  way  up  and  down  the  avenue.  We  were  walk- 
ing five  abreast,  swinging  hands.  When  we  got  to 
the  gate  we  saw  some  one  coming  up  the  road,  and 
we  all  stood  in  a  row,  peeping  out  between  the  bars 
till  we  saw  that  it  was  Rob  himself.  Then  Joyce 
said  that  we  would  make  him  decide  the  matter — • 
that  we'd  all  put  our  hands  through  the  bars  as  if 
we  had  something  in  them,  and  make  him  choose 
which  he'd  take,  right  or  left.  If  he  said  right,  I 
could  have  him  for  my  attendant  and  she'd  take 
Doctor  Bradford,  but  if  he  said  left  I'd  have  to 
put  up  with  the  Pilgrim  Father,  and  she'd  take  Rob. 

"  He  came  along  bareheaded,  swinging  his  hat 
in  his  hand,  and  we  were  so  busy  explaining  to  him 
that  he  was  to  choose  which  hand  he'd  take,  right 
or  left,  that  we  did  not  notice  that  he  had  a  kodak 
hidden  behind  his  hat.  He  held  it  up  in  front  of 
him,  and  bowed  and  scraped  and  did  all  sorts  of 
ridiculous  things  to  keep  us  from  noticing  what  he 
was  doing,  till  all  of  a  sudden  we  heard  the  shutter 
click  and  he  gave  a  whoop  and  said,  '  There !  That 
will  be  one  of  the  best  pictures  in  my  collection. 


ALL  YOU  GIRLS  STANDING  '.VITH  YOUR  HANDS   STUCK 
THROUGH  THE  BARS ' " 


*  A    COON  HUNT"  163 

All  you  girls  standing  with  your  hands  stuck 
through  the  bars,  like  monkeys  at  the  Zoo,  begging 
for  peanuts.  I  don't  know  whether  to  call  it  "  Be- 
hind the  Bars,"  or  "  Don't  Feed  the  Animals."  ' 

"  Then  Lloyd  said  he  shouldn't  come  in  for  mak- 
ing such  a  speech,  and  he  sat  down  on  the  grass  and 
began  to  sing  in  a  ridiculous  way,  the  old  song  that 
goes  : 

"  '  Oh,  angel,  sweet  angel,  I  pray  thee 
Set  the  beautiful  gates  ajar.' 

"  He  was  off  the  key,  as  he  usually  is  when  he 
sings  without  an  accompaniment,  and  it  was  so 
funny,  such  a  howl  of  a  song,  that  we  laughed  till 
the  tears  came.  Then  he  said  he'd  name  the  picture 
'  At  the  Gate  of  Paradise,'  and  make  a  foot-note  to 
the  effect  that  she  was  a  Peri,  if  she'd  let  him  in. 

"  After  awhile  she  said  she'd  let  him  in  to  Para- 
dise if  he  could  name  one  good  deed  he'd  ever  done 
that  had  benefited  human  kind.  He  said  certainly 
he  could,  and  that  he  wouldn't  have  to  dig  it  up 
from  the  dead  past.  He  could  give  it  to  her  hot 
from  the  griddle,  for  only  ten  minutes  before  he 
had  completed  arrangements  for  the  evening's  en- 
tertainment of  the  bridal  party. 

"  Lloyd  opened  the  gate  in  a  hurry  then,  and 
fairly  begged  him  to  come  in,  for  we  had  been  wild 


164    THE  LITTLE   COLONEL:    MAID   OF  HONOR 

all  week  to  know  what  godmother  had  decided 
upon.  She  only  laughed  when  we  teased  her  to 
tell  us,  and  said  we'd  see.  We  were  sure  it  would 
be  something  very  elegant  and  formal.  Maybe  a 
real  grown-up  affair,  with  an  orchestra  from  town 
and  distinguished  strangers  to  meet  the  three 
fathers,  Eugenia's,  Stuart's  and  the  Pilgrim  F. 

"  We  couldn't  believe  Rob  when  he  told  us  that 
we  were  to  go  on  a  coon  hunt,  and  went  racing  up 
to  the  house  to  ask  godmother  herself. 

"  And  she  said  yes,  she  was  sure  they  would  en- 
joy a  glimpse  of  real  country  Southern  life,  and 
some  of  our  informal  fun,  far  more  than  the  func- 
tions they  could  attend  any  time  in  the  East.  Be- 
sides she  wanted  everybody  to  keep  in  mind  that  we 
were  still  little  schoolgirls,  even  if  we  were  to  be 
bridesmaids,  and  that  was  why  she  was  taking  us 
all  off  to  the  woods  for  an  old-time  country  frolic, 
instead  of  having  a  grand  dinner  or  a  formal  dance. 

"  Then  Rob  asked  us  if  we  didn't  want  to  beg 
his  pardon  for  doubting  his  word,  but  Lloyd  told 
him  no,  that 

"  '  The  truth  itself  is  not  believed 
From  one  who  often  has  deceived.' 

"  Then  we  tried  to  make  him  choose  which  he'd 
have,  right  or  left,  and  held  out  our  hands  again, 


"A    COON-  HUNT"  165 

but  he  said  he  knew  that  some  great  question  of 
choice  was  being  involved,  and  that  he  would  not 
assume  the  responsibility.  That  we'd  have  to  draw 
straws,  if  we  wanted  to  decide  anything.  So  Eu- 
genia held  two  blades  of  grass  between  her  palms, 
and  Joyce  drew  the  longest  one.  I  couldn't  help 
groaning,  for  that  meant  that  the  Pilgrim  Father 
must  fall  to  my  lot. 

"  But  it  didn't  seem  so  bad  after  I  met  him. 
They  all  came  out  on  the  three  o'clock  train  with 
Phil.  When  the  carriage  came  up  from  the  station 
we  had  a  grand  jubilee.  Cousin  Carl  seemed  so 
glad  to  get  back  to  the  Valley,  but  no  gladder  than 
everybody  was  to  see  him.  Stuart  is  so  much  like 
Phil  that  we  felt  as  if  we  were  already  acquainted 
with  him.  He  is  very  boyish-looking  and  young, 
but  there  is  something  so  dignified  and  gentle  in 
his  manner  that  one  feels  he  is  cut  out  to  be  a  staid 
old  family  physician,  and  that  in  time  he  will  grow 
into  the  love  and  confidence  of  his  patients  like 
Maclaren's  Doctor  of  the  Old  School.  But  dear 
old  Doctor  Tremont  is  the  flower  of  that  family. 
We  all  fell  in  love  with  him  the  moment  we  saw 
him.  It  is  easy  to  see  what  he  has  been  to  his  boys. 
The  very  tone  in  which  they  call  him  '  Daddy ' 


1 66    THE  LITTLE    COLONEL:   MAID   OF  HONOR 

shows  how  they  adore  him ;  and  he  is  so  sweet  and 
tender  with  Eugenia. 

"  Contrasted  with  him  and  Cousin  Carl,  I  must 
say  that  the  Pilgrim  Father  is  not  a  suitable  name 
for  Doctor  Bradford.  Really,  with  his  smooth 
shaven  face,  and  clear  ruddy  complexion  like  an 
Englishman's,  he  doesn't  seem  much  older  than 
Malcolm.  Still  his  dignity  is  rather  awe-full,  and 
his  grave  manner  and  Boston  accent  make  him  seem 
sort  of  foreign,  so  different  from  the  boys  whom 
we  have  always  known.  We  were  afraid  at  first 
that  godmother  had  made  a  great  mistake  in 
planning  to  take  him  on  a  coon  hunt.  But  it  turned 
out  that  she  was  right,  as  she  always  is.  He  told  us 
afterward  he  had  never  enjoyed  anything  so  much 
in  all  his  life. 

"  It  was  just  eight  o'clock  when  we  set  out  on 
the  hunt  last  night.  A  big  hay-wagon  drove  up  to 
the  door  with  the  party  from  The  Beeches  already 
stowed  away  in  it,  sitting  flat  on  the  hay  in  the  bot- 
tom. Mrs.  Walton  was  with  them,  and  Miss  Alli- 
son and  Katie  Mallard  and  her  father,  and  several 
others  they  had  picked  up  on  the  way. 

"  While  they  were  laughing  ind  talking  and 
everybody  was  being  introduced  Alec  came  driving 
up  from  the  barn  with  another  big  wagon,  and  we 


"A    COON  HUNT"  1 67 

all  piled  into  it  except  Lloyd  and  Rob,  Joyce  and 
Phil.  They  were  on  horseback  and  kept  alongside 
of  us  as  outriders.  The  moon  hadn't  come  up,  but 
the  starlight  was  so  bright  that  the  road  gleamed 
like  a  white  ribbon  ahead  of  us,  and  we  sang  most 
of  the  way  to  the  woods. 

"  Old  Unc'  Jefferson  led  the  procession  on  his 
white  mule,  with  three  lanky  coon  dogs  following. 
They  struck  the  trail  before  we  reached  our  stop- 
ping-place, and  went  dashing  off  into  the  woods. 
Unc'  Jefferson  fairly  rolled  off  his  old  mule,  and 
threw  the  rope  bridle  over  the  first  fence-post,  and 
went  crashing  through  the  underbrush  after  them. 
The  wagons  kept  on  a  few  rods  farther  and  landed 
us  on  the  creek  bank,  up  by  the  black  bridge. 

"  It  seemed  as  if  the  whole  itinerary  of  the  hunt 
had  been  planned  for  our  especial  benefit,  for  just 
as  we  reached  the  creek  the  moon  began  to  roll  up 
through  the  trees  like  a  great  golden  mill-wheel, 
and  we  could  see  our  way  about  in  the  woods.  Evi- 
dently the  coon's  home  was  in  some  hollow  near  our 
stopping-place,  for  instead  of  staying  in  the  dense 
beech  woods,  up  where  it  would  have  been  hard  for 
us  to  climb,  the  first  dash  of  the  dogs  sent  him  scur- 
rying toward  the  row  of  big  sycamores  that  over- 
hang the  creek. 


1 68  THE  LITTLE  COLONEL:  MAID  OF  HONOR 

"  It  whizzed  by  us  so  fast  that  at  first  we  did  not 
know  what  had  passed  us  till  the  dogs  came  tum- 
bling after  at  breakneck  speed.  They  were  such 
old  hands  at  the  game  that  they  gave  their  quarry 
a  bad  time  of  it  for  awhile,  turning  and  doubling 
on  his  tracks  till  we  were  almost  as  excited  and  be- 
wildered as  the  poor  coon.  Little  Mary  Ware  just 
stood  and  wrung  her  hands,  and  once  when  the  dogs 
were  almost  on  him  she  teetered  up  and  down  on 
her  tiptoes  and  squealed. 

"  All  of  a  sudden  the  coon  dodged  to  one  side  and 
disappeared.  We  thought  he  had  escaped,  but  a 
little  later  on  we  heard  the  dogs  baying  frantically 
farther  down  the  creek,  and  Rob  shouted  that  they 
had  treed  him,  and  for  everybody  to  hurry  up  if 
they  wanted  to  be  in  at  the  death.  So  away  we 
went,  helter-skelter,  in  a  wild  race  down  the  creek 
bank,  godmother,  Papa  Jack,  Cousin  Carl,  and 
everybody.  It  was  a  rough  scramble,  and  as  we 
pitched  over  rolling  stones,  and  caught  at  bushes  to 
pull  ourselves  up,  and  swung  down  holding  on  to 
the  saplings,  I  wondered  what  Doctor  Bradford 
would  think  of  our  tomboy  ways. 

"  Nobody  waited  to  be  helped.  It  was  every  fel- 
low for  himself,  we  were  in  such  a  hurry  to  get  to 
the  coon.  Lloyd  kept  far  in  the  lead,  ahead  of 


"A    COON  HUNT"  169 

everybody,  and  Joyce  walked  straight  up  a  steep 
bank  as  if  she  had  been  a  fly.  When  we  got  to  the 
tree  where  the  dogs  were  howling  and  baying  we 
had  to  look  a  long  time  before  we  could  see  the 
coon.  Then  all  we  could  distinguish  was  the  shine 
of  its  eyeballs,  for  it  crouched  so  flat  against  the 
limb  that  it  seemed  a  part  of  the  bark.  It  was  away 
out  on  the  tip-end  of  one  of  the  highest  branches. 

"  The  only  way  to  get  it  was  to  shake  it  down, 
and  to  our  surprise,  before  we  knew  who  had  volun- 
teered, we  saw  Doctor  Bradford,  in  his  immaculate 
white  flannels,  throw  off  his  coat  and  go  shinning 
up  the  tree  like  an  acrobat  in  a  circus.  He  had  to 
shake  and  shake  the  limb  before  he  could  dislodge 
the  coon,  but  at  last  it  let  go,  and  the  dogs  had  it 
before  it  fairly  touched  the  ground.  We  girls  didn't 
wait  to  see  what  they  did  with  it,  but  stuck  our 
fingers  in  our  ears  and  tore  back  to  the  wagons. 
Rob  made  fun  of  Lloyd  when  she  said  she  didn't 
see  why  they  couldn't  have  coon  hunts  without  coon 
killings,  and  that  they  ought  to  have  made  the  dogs 
let  go.  They  had  had  the  fun  of  catching  it,  and 
they  ought  to  be  satisfied  with  that. 

"  Joyce  whispered  to  me  that  the  hunt  had  had 
one  desirable  result.  It  had  limbered  up  the  Pilgrim 
Father  so  thoroughly,  that  he  couldn't  be  stiff  and 


170    THE  LITTLE   COLONEL:   MAID   OF  HONOR 

dignified  again  after  his  acrobatic  feat.  It  really 
did  make  a  difference,  for  after  that  he  was  one  of 
the  j oiliest  men  in  the  party. 

"  As  it  was  out  of  season  and  old  Unc'  Jefferson 
didn't  care  for  the  coons,  he  called  off  the  dogs 
after  they  had  caught  one,  to  show  us  what  the 
sport  was  like,  and  then  he  built  us  a  grand  camp- 
fire  on  the  creek  bank,  and  we  had  what  Mrs.  Wal- 
ton called  the  sequel.  She  and  Miss  Allison  and 
godmother  made  coffee  and  unpacked  the  hampers 
we  had  brought  with  us.  There  was  beaten  biscuit 
and  fried  chicken  and  iced  watermelon,  and  all  sorts 
of  good  things.  As  we  ate,  the  moon  came  up 
higher  and  higher,  and  silvered  the  white  trunks  of 
the  sycamores  till  they  looked  like  a  row  of  ghosts 
standing  with  outstretched  arms  along  the  creek.  It 
was  so  lovely  there  above  the  water.  All  the  sweet 
woodsy  smells  of  fern  and  mint  and  fallen  leaves 
seem  stronger  after  nightfall.  Everybody  enjoyed 
the  feast  so  much,  and  was  in  such  high  spirits  that 
we  all  felt  a  shade  of  regret  that  it  had  to  come  to 
an  end  so  soon. 

"  There  were  two  boats  down  by  the  bridge  which 
we  found  that  Rob  had  had  sent  over  that  morning 
for  the  occasion.  They  had  brought  the  oars  over 
in  the  wagon.  Pretty  soon  we  saw  Eugenia  and 


'THEY    STEPPED    IN    AND    ROWED    OFF    DOWN    THE     SHINING 
WATERWAY  '  " 


"A    COON  HUNT"  I^I 

Stuart  going  down  toward  one  of  them,  a  little 
white  canvas  one,  and  they  stepped  in  and  rowed 
off  down  the  shining  waterway.  It  was  only  a  nar- 
row creek,  but  the  moonlight  seemed  to  glorify  it, 
and  we  knew  that  it  made  them  think  of  that  boat- 
ride  that  had  been  the  beginning  of  their  happiness, 
in  far-away  Venice. 

"  The  other  boat  was  larger.  Allison  and  Miss 
Bonham,  Phil  and  Lieutenant  Stanley  went  out  in 
that.  The  music  of  their  singing,  as  it  floated  back 
to  us,  was  so  beautiful,  that  those  of  us  on  the  bank 
stopped  talking  to  listen.  When  they  came  back 
presently,  Kitty  and  Joyce,  Rob  and  Lieutenant 
Logan  pushed  out  in  it  for  awhile.  They  sang  too. 

"  When  the  little  boat  came  back,  Doctor  Brad- 
ford asked  Lloyd  to  go  out  with  him,  and  she  said 
she  would  as  soon  as  she  had  given  her  chatelaine 
watch  to  her  father  to  keep  for  her.  The  clasp  kept 
coming  unfastened  and  she  was  afraid  she  would 
lose  it." 

Here  Betty  laid  down  her  pen  a  moment  and  sat 
peering  dreamily  out  between  the  vines.  She  was 
about  to  record  a  little  conversation  she  had  over- 
heard between  Lloyd  and  her  father  as  they  stood 
a  moment  in  the  bushes  behind  her,  but  paused  as 
she  reflected  that  it  would  be  like  betraying  a  con- 


1/2    THE  LITTLE   COLONEL:    MAID   OF  HONOR 

fidence  to  make  an  entry  of  it  in  her  journal.  It 
would  be  even  worse,  since  it  was  no  confidence  of 
hers,  but  a  matter  lying  between  Lloyd  and  her 
father  alone. 

She  sat  tapping  the  rim  of  the  ink-bottle  with  her 
pen  as  she  recalled  the  conversation.  "  Yes,  it's  all 
right  for  you  to  go,  Lloyd,  but  wait  a  moment. 
Have  you  my  silver  yardstick  with  you  to-night, 
dear?" 

"  Why  of  co'se,  Papa  Jack.  What  makes  you  ask 
such  a  question  ?  " 

"  Well,"  he  answered,  "  there  is  so  much  weav- 
ing going  on  around  you  lately,  and  weddings  are 
apt  to  put  all  sorts  of  notions  into  a  girl's  head. 
I  just  wanted  to  remind  you  that  only  village  lads 
and  shepherd  boys  are  in  sight,  probably  not  even 
a  knight,  and  the  mantle  must  be  worthy  of  a 
prince's  wearing,  you  know." 

Then  Lloyd  pretended  to  be  hurt,  and  Betty  could 
tell  from  her  voice  just  how  she  lifted  her  head  with 
an  air  of  injured  dignity. 

"  Remembah  I  gave  you  my  promise,  suh,  the 
promise  of  a  Lloyd.  Isn't  that  enough  ?  " 

"  More  than  enough,  my  little  Hildegarde."  As 
they  stepped  out  of  the  bushes  together  Betty  saw 
him  playfully  pinch  her  cheek.  Then  Lloyd  went 


«A    COON  HUNT"  1/3 

on  down  the  bank.  Here  Betty  took  up  her  pen 
again. 

"  When  she  stepped  into  the  boat  the  moonlight 
on  her  white  dress  and  shining  hair  made  her  look 
almost  as  ethereal  and  fair  as  she  had  in  the  Elaine 
tableau.  The  boats  could  only  go  as  far  as  the 
shallows,  just  a  little  way  below  the  bridge,  so  they 
went  back  and  forth  a  number  of  times,  making 
such  a  pretty  picture  for  those  who  waited  on  the 
bank. 

"  After  Doctor  Bradford  had  brought  Lloyd 
back  he  asked  me  to  go  with  him,  and  oh,  it  was  so 
beautiful  out  there  on  the  water.  I'll  enjoy  the 
memory  of  it  as  long  as  I  live.  At  first  I  couldn't 
think  of  anything  to  say,  and  the  more  I  tried  to 
think  of  something  that  would  interest  a  man  like 
him,  the  more  embarrassed  I  grew.  It  was  the  first 
time  I  had  ever  tried  to  talk  to  any  but  old  men  or 
the  home  boys. 

"  After  we  had  rowed  a  little  way  in  silence  he 
turned  to  me  with  the  jolliest  twinkle  in  his  eyes 
and  asked  me  why  the  boat  ought  to  be  called  the 
Mayflower.  I  was  so  surprised,  I  asked  him  if  that 
was  a  riddle,  and  he  said  no,  but  he  wondered  if 
I  wouldn't  feel  that  it  was  the  Mayflower  because 
I  was  adrift  in  it  with  the  Pilgrim  Father. 


174    THE  LITTLE  COLONEL:   MAID  OF  HONOR 

"  I  was  so  embarrassed  I  didn't  know  what  to 
say,  for  I  couldn't  imagine  how  he  had  found  out 
that  we  had  called  him  that.  I  couldn't  have  talked 
to  him  at  all  if  I  had  known  what  Lloyd  told  me 
afterward  when  we  had  gone  to  our  room.  It 
seems  that  by  some  unlucky  chance  he  was  left  alone 
with  Mary  Ware  for  awhile  before  dinner.  God- 
mother told  her  to  entertain  him,  and  she  proceeded 
to  do  so  by  showing  him  the  collection  of  all  the 
kodak  pictures  Rob  had  taken  of  us  during  the 
house-party.  After  he  left  us  yesterday  morning  he 
went  straight  to  work  to  develop  and  print  the 
films  he.  had  just  taken,  and  when  he  brought  us 
the  copies  that  afternoon,  we  were  busy,  and  he 
slipped  them  into  the  album  with  the  others  with- 
out saying  anything  about  them.  So  none  of  us 
saw  them  until  Mary  came  across  them  in  showing 
them  to  Doctor  Bradford. 

"  There  was  the  one  of  us  with  our  hands  thrust 
through  the  bars,  when  we  were  trying  to  make 
Rob  choose  right  or  left,  and  one  of  Joyce  and  me 
drawing  straws.  Neither  of  us  had  the  slightest 
idea  that  he  had  taken  us  in  that  act,  and  Mary  was 
so  surprised  that  she  gave  the  whole  thing  away  — 
blurted  out  what  we  were  doing,  before  she  thought 
that  he  was  the  Pilgrim  Father.  Then  in  her  con- 


"A    COON  HUNT"  1/5 

fusion,  to  cover  up  her  mistake,  she  began  to  ex- 
plain as  only  Mary  Ware  can,  and  the  more  she 
explained,  the  more  ridiculous  things  she  told  about 
us.  Doctor  Bradford  must  have  found  her  vastly 
entertaining  from  the  way  he  laughed  whenever  he 
quoted  her,  which  he  did  frequently. 

"  I  wish  she  wouldn't  be  so  alarmingly  outspoken 
when  she  sings  our  praises  to  strangers.  She  gave 
him  to  understand  that  I  am  a  full-fledged  author 
and  playwright,  the  peer  of  any  poet  laureate  who 
ever  held  a  pen;  that  Lloyd  is  a  combination  of 
princess  and  angel  and  halo-crowned  saint,  and 
Joyce  a  model  big  sister  and  an  all-round  genius. 
How  she  managed  in  the  short  time  they  were  alone 
to  tell  him  as  much  as  she  did  will  always  remain 
a  mystery. 

"  He  knew  all  about  Joyce  raising  bees  at  the 
Wigwam  to  earn  money  for  her  art  lessons,  and 
my  nearly  going  blind  at  the  first  house-party,  and 
why  we  all  wear  Tusitala  rings.  Only  time  will 
reveal  what  else  she  told.  Maybe,  after  all,  her  con- 
fidences made  things  easier,  for  it  gave  us  some- 
thing to  laugh  about  right  in  the  beginning,  and 
that  took  away  the  stiff  feeling,  and  we  were  soon 
talking  like  old  friends.  By  the  time  the  boat 
landed  I  was  glad  that  he  had  fallen  to  my  lot  as 


1^6    THE  LITTLE    COLONEL:   MAID   OF  HONOR 

attendant  instead  of  Rob,  for  he  is  so  much  more 
entertaining.  He  told  about  a  moonlight  ride  he 
had  on  the  Nile  last  winter  when  he  was  in  .Egypt, 
and  that  led  us  to  talking  of  lotus  flowers,  and  that 
to  Tennyson's  poem  of  the  '  Lotus  Eaters.'  He 
quoted  a  verse  from  it  which  he  said  was,  to  him, 
one  of  the  best  comparisons  in  English  verse. 

"  «  There  is  sweet  music  here  that  softer  falls 
Than  petals  from  blown  roses  on  the  grass, 
Or  night  dews  upon  still  waters,  between  walls 
Of  shadowy  granite  in  a  gleaming  pass. 
Music  that  gentlier  on  the  spirit  lies 
Than  tired  eyelids  upon  tired  eyes.' 

"  The  other  boat-load,  far  down  the  creek,  was 
singing  '  Sweet  and  low,  wind  of  the  western  sea,' 
and  he  rested  on  his  oars  for  us  to  listen.  I  had 
often  repeated  that  verse  to  myself  when  I  closed 
my  eyes  after  a  hard  day's  study.  Nothing  falls 
gentlier  than  tired  eyelids  upon  tired  eyes,  and  to 
have  him  understand  the  feeling  and  admire  the 
poem  in  the  same  way  that  I  did,  was  such  a  pleas- 
ant sensation,  as  if  I  had  come  upon  a  delightful 
unexplored  country,  full  of  pleasant  surprises. 

"  Such  thoughts  as  that  about  music  are  the  ones 
I  love  best,  and  yet  I  never  would  dream  of  speak- 


"A   COON  HUNT"  Iff 

ing  of  such  things  to  Rob  or  Malcolm,  who  are  both 
old  and  dear  friends. 

"  After  all,  the  coon  hunt  proved  a  very  small 
part  of  the  evening's  entertainment,  and  he  must 
have  liked  it,  for  I  heard  him  say  to  godmother,  as 
he  bade  her  good  night,  that  if  this  was  a  taste  of 
real  Kentucky  life,  he  would  like  a  steady  diet  of 
it  all  the  rest  of  his  days." 


CHAPTER   XL 

THE   FOUR  -  LEAVED    CLOVER 

As  Betty  carefully  blotted  the  last  page  and 
placed  the  stopper  in  the  ink-bottle,  the  clock  in 
the  hall  began  to  strike,  and  she  realized  that  she 
must  have  been  writing  fully  an  hour.  The  whole 
household  was  astir  now.  She  would  be  late  to 
breakfast  unless  she  hurried  with  her  dressing. 

Steps  on  the  gravelled  path  below  the  balcony 
made  her  peep  out  between  the  vines.  Stuart  and 
Doctor  Bradford  were  coming  back  from  an  early 
stroll  about  the  place.  The  wistaria  clung  too 
closely  to  the  trellis  for  them  to  see  her,  but,  as  they 
crossed  the  grassy  court  between  the  two  wings, 
they  looked  up  at  Eugenia's  balcony  opposite. 
Betty  looked  too.  That  bower  of  golden-hearted 
roses  had  drawn  her  glances  more  than  once  that 
morning.  Now  in  the  midst  of  it,  in  a  morning 
dress  of  pink,  fresh  and  fair  as  a  blossom  herself, 
stood  Eugenia,  reaching  up  for  a  half-blown  bud 
above  her  head.  Her  sleeves  fell  back  from  her 
178 


THE   FOUR -LEAVED    CLOVER  IfQ 

graceful  white  arms,  and  as  she  broke  the  bud 
from  its  stem  a  shower  of  rose-petals  fell  on  her 
dusky  hair  and  upturned  face. 

Then  Betty  saw  that  Doctor  Bradford  had  passed 
on  into  the  house,  leaving  Stuart  standing  there 
with  his  hat  in  his  hand,  smiling  up  at  the  beautiful 
picture  above  him. 

"  Good  morrow,  Juliet,"  he  called,  softly. 
"  Happy  is  the  bride  the  sun  shines  on.  Was  there 
ever  such  a  glorious  morning  ?  " 

"  It's  perfect,"  answered  Eugenia,  leaning  out  of 
her  rose  bower  to  smile  down  at  him. 

"  I  wonder  if  the  bride's  happiness  measures  up 
to  the  morning,"  he  asked.  "  Mine  does." 

For  answer  she  glanced  around,  her  finger  on 
her  lips  as  if  to  warn  him  that  walls  have  ears,  and 
then  with  a  light  little  laugh  tossed  the  rosebud 
down  to  him.  "  Wait !  I'll  come  and  tell  you,"  she 
said. 

Betty,  gathering  up  her  writing  material,  saw 
him  catch  the  rose,  touch  it  to  his  lips  and  fasten 
it  in  his  coat.  Then,  conscience-smitten  that  she  had 
seen  the  little  by-play  not  intended  for  other  eyes, 
she  bolted  back  into  her  room  through  the  window, 
so  hurriedly  that  she  struck  her  head  against  the 


l8o    THE  LITTLE   COLONEL:  MAID   OF  HONOR 

sash  with  a  force  which  made  her  see  stars  for 
several  minutes. 

The  first  excitement  after  breakfast  was  the  ar- 
rival of  the  bride's  cake.  Aunt  Cindy  had  baked  it, 
the  bride  herself  had  stirred  the  charms  into  it, 
but  it  had  been  sent  to  Louisville  to  be  iced.  Lloyd 
called  the  entire  family  into  the  butler's  pantry  to 
admire  it,  as  it  sat  imposingly  on  a  huge  silver 
salver. 

"  It  looks  as  if  it  might  have  come  out  of  the 
Snow  Queen's  palace,"  she  said,  "  instead  of  the 
confectionah's.  Wouldn't  you  like  to  see  the  place 
where  those  snow-rose  garlands  grow  ?  " 

"  Somebody  take  Phil  away  from  it !  Quick !  " 
said  Stuart.  "  Once  I  had  a  birthday  cake  iced  in 
pink  with  garlands  of  white  sugar  roses  all  around 
it,  and  he  sneaked  into  the  pantry  before  the  party 
and  picked  off  so  many  of  the  roses  that  it  looked 
as  if  a  mouse  had  nibbled  the  edges.  Aunt  Patricia 
put  him  to  bed  and  he  missed  the  party,  but  we 
couldn't  punish  him  that  way  if  he  should  spoil  the 
wedding  cake,  because  we  need  his  services  as  best 
man.  So  we'd  better  remove  him  from  tempta- 
tion." 

"  Hook  here,  son,"  answered  Phil,  taking  Stuart 
by  the  shoulders  and  pushing  him  ahead  of  him. 


THE  FOUR- LEAVED    CLOVER  l8l 

"  When  it  comes  to  raking  up  youthful  sins  you'd 
better  lie  low.  '  I  could  a  tale  unfold '  that  would 
make  Eugenia  think  that  this  is  '  a  fatal  wedding 
morn.'  If  she  knew  all  she  wouldn't  have  you." 

"  Then  you  sha'n't  tell  anything,"  declared  Lloyd. 
"  I'm  not  going  to  be  cheated  out  of  my  share  of 
the  wedding,  no  mattah  what  a  dahk  past  eithah  of 
you  had.  Forget  it,  and  come  and  help  us  hunt 
the  foah-leaf  clovahs  that  Eugenia  wants  for  the 
dream-cake  boxes." 

"  What  are  they?"  asked  Miles  Bradford,  as  he 
edged  out  of  the  pantry  after  the  others.  Mary 
happened  to  be  the  one  in  front  of  him,  and  she 
turned  to  answer,  pointing  to  one  of  the  shelves, 
where  lay  a  pile  of  tiny  heart-shaped  boxes,  tied 
with  white  satin  ribbons. 

"  Each  guest  is  to  have  one  of  those,"  she  ex- 
plained. "  There'll  be  a  piece  of  wedding  cake  in 
it,  and  a  four-leaf  clover  if  we  can  find  enough  to 
go  around.  Most  people  don't  have  the  clovers, 
but  Eugenia  heard  about  them,  and  she  wants  to  try 
all  the  customs  that  everybody  ever  had.  You  put 
it  under  your  pillow  for  three  nights,  and  whatever 
you  dream  will  come  true.  If  you  dream  about  the 
same  person  all  three  nights,  that  is  the  one  you  will 
marry." 


1 82  THE  LITTLE  COLONEL:  MAID  OF  HONOR 

"Horrible!"  exclaimed  he,  laughing.  "Sup- 
pose one  has  nightmares.  Will  they  come  true?" 

Mary  nodded  gravely.  "  Mom  Beck  says  so,  and 
Eliot  So  did  old  Mrs.  Bisbee.  She's  the  one  that 
told  Eugenia  about  the  clovers.  There  was  one 
with  her  piece  of  cake  from  her  sister's  wedding, 
that  she  dreamed  on  nearly  fifty  years  ago.  She 
dreamed  of  Mr.  Bisbee  three  nights  straight  ahead, 
and  she  said  there  never  was  a  more  fortunate  wed- 
ding. They'll  celebrate  their  golden  anniversary 
soon." 

"  Miss  Mary,"  asked  her  listener,  solemnly,  "  do 
you  girls  really  believe  all  these  signs  and  wonders  ? 
I  have  heard  more  queer  superstitions  the  few  hours 
I  have  been  in  this  Valley,  than  in  all  my  life  be- 
fore." 

"  Oh,  no,  we  don't  really  believe  in  them.  Only 
the  darkies  do  that.  But  you  can't  help  feeling 
more  comfortable  when  they  '  point  right '  for  you 
than  when  they  don't;  like  seeing  the  new  moon 
over  your  right  shoulder,  you  know.  And  it's  fun 
to  try  all  the  charms.  Eugenia  says  so  many  brides 
have  done  it  that  it  seems  a  part  of  the  performance, 
like  the  veil  and  the  trail  and  the  orange-blossoms." 

They  passed  from  the  dining-room  into  the  hall, 
then  out  on  to  the  front  porch,  where  they  stood 


THE  FOUR -LEAVED   CLOVER  183 

waiting  for  Joyce  and  Eugenia  to  get  their  hats. 
While  they  waited,  Rob  Moore  joined  them,  and 
they  explained  the  quest  they  were  about  to  start 
upon. 

"  Where  are  you  going  to  take  us,  Miss  Lloyd  ?  " 
asked  Miles  Bradford.  "  According  to  the  old 
legend  the  four-leaved  clover  is  to  be  found  only  in 
Paradise." 

"Oh,  do  you  know  a  legend  about  it?"  asked 
Betty,  eagerly.  "  I've  always  thought  there  ought 
to  be  one." 

"  Then  you  must  read  the  little  book,  Miss  Betty, 
called  '  Abdallah,  or  the  Four-leaved  Shamrock/ 
Abdallah  was  a  son  of  the  desert  who  spent  hte  life 
in  a  search  for  the  lucky  shamrock.  He  had  been 
taught  that  it  was  the  most  beautiful  flower  of 
Paradise.  One  leaf  was  red  like  copper,  another 
white  like  silver,  the  third  yellow  like  gold,  and 
the  fourth  was  a  glittering  diamond.  When  Adam 
and  Eve  were  driven  out  of  the  garden,  poor  Eve 
reached  out  and  clutched  at  a  blossom  to  carry 
away  with  her.  In  her  despair  she  did  not  notice 
what  she  plucked,  but,  as  she  passed  through  the 
portal,  curiosity  made  her  open  her  hand  to  look  at 
the  flower  she  had  snatched.  To  her  joy  it  was 
the  shamrock.  But  while  she  looked,  a  gust  of 


184    THE  LITTLE   COLONEL:  MAID   OF  HONOR 

wind  caught  up  the  diamond  leaf  and  blew  it  back 
within  the  gates,  just  as  they  closed  behind  her. 
The  name  of  that  leaf  was  Perfect  Happiness. 
That  is  why  men  never  find  it  in  this  world  for  all 
their  searching.  It  is  to  be  found  only  in  Paradise." 

"  Oh,  but  I  don't  believe  that !  "  cried  Lloyd. 
"  Lots  and  lots  of  times  I  have  been  perfectly  happy, 
and  I  am  suah  that  everybody  must  be  at  some  time 
or  anothah  in  this  world." 

"Yes,  but  you  didn't  stay  happy,  did  you?" 
asked  Joyce,  who  had  come  back  in  time  to  hear 
part  of  the  legend.  "  We  get  glimpses  of  it  now 
and  then,  as  poor  Eve  did  when  she  opened  her 
'hand,  but  part  of  it  always  flies  away  while  we  are 
looking  at  it.  People  can  be  contented  all  the  time, 
and  happy  in  a  mild  way,  but  nobody  can  be  per- 
fectly, radiantly  happy  all  the  time,  day  in  and  day 
out.  The  legend  is  right.  It  is  only  in  Paradise 
that  one  can  find  the  diamond  leaf." 

"  Joyce  talks  as  if  she  were  a  hundred  yeahs  old," 
laughed  Lloyd,  looking  up  at  Doctor  Bradford. 
"  Maybe  there  is  some  truth  in  yoah  old  Oriental 
legend,  but  I  believe  times  have  changed  since 
Abdallah  went  a-hunting.  Phil  and  I  came  across 
a  song  the  othah  day  that  I  want  you  all  to  heah. 
Maybe  it  will  make  you  change  yoah  minds." 


THE  FOUR -LEAVED    CLOVER  185 

Phil  protested  with  many  grimaces  and  much 
nonsense  that  he  "  could  not  sing  the  old  songs 
now."  That  he  would  not  "  be  butchered  to  make 
a  Roman  holiday."  But  all  the  time  he  protested, 
he  was  stepping  toward  the  piano  in  a  fantastic 
exaggerated  cake-walk  that  set  his  audience  to 
laughing.  At  the  first  low  notes  of  the  accompani- 
ment, he  dropped  his  foolishness  and  began  to  sing 
in  a  full,  sweet  voice  that  brought  the  old  Colonel 
to  the  door  of  his  den  to  listen.  Eliot,  packing 
trunks  in  the  upper  hall,  leaned  over  the  banister: 

41  I  know  a  place  where  the  sun  is  like  gold, 
And  the  cherry  blooms  burst  with  snow. 
And  down  underneath  is  the  loveliest  nook 
Where  the  four-leaf  clovers  grow. 

"  One  leaf  is  for  hope  and  one  is  for  faith, 
And  one  is  for  love  you  know, 
And  God  put  another  one  in  for  luck. 
If  you  search  you  will  find  where  they  grow. 

"  And  you  must  have  hope  and  you  must  have  faith. 
You  must  love  and  be  strong,  and  so 
If  you  work,  if  you  wait,  you  will  find  the  place 
Where  the  four-leaf  clovers  grow." 

It  was  a  sweet,  haunting  melody  that  accom- 
panied the  words,  and  the  gay  party  of  nine,  stroll- 
ing toward  the  orchard,  hummed  it  all  the  way. 

There  in  the  shade  of  the  big  apple-trees,  where 


1 86    THE  LITTLE  COLONEL:  MAID   OF  HONOR 

the  clover  grew  in  thick  patches,  they  began  their 
search;  all  together  at  first,  then  in  little  groups 
of  twos  and  threes,  until  they  had  hunted  over  the 
entire  orchard.  Stuart,  who  had  been  doing  more 
talking  than  hunting,  went  to  groping  industriously 
around  on  his  hands  and  knees,  when  they  all  came 
together  again  after  an  hour's  search. 

"  Bradford,"  he  said,  emphatically,  "  I  am  begin- 
ning to  think  that  you  and  Miss  Joyce  are  right, 
and  that  Paradise  has  a  monopoly  on  the  four-leaf 
kind.  I  haven't  caught  a  glimpse  of  one.  Not 
even  its  shadow." 

Lloyd  held  up  a  handful.  "  I  found  them  in 
several  places,  thick  as  hops." 

"  Which  goes  to  show,"  he  insisted,  "  that  the 
song,  '  If  you  work,  if  you  wait,  you  will  find  the 
place,'  is  all  a  delusion  and  a  snare.  You  all  have 
worked,  and  Eugenia  and  I  have  waited,  and  only 
you,  who  are  '  bawn  lucky,'  have  found  any.  It's 
pure  luck." 

"  No,"  interrupted  Miles  Bradford,  "  you  can't 
call  strolling  around  a  shady  orchard  with  a  pretty 
girl  work,  and  the  song  does  correspond  with  the 
legend.  Abdallah  worked  hard  for  his  first  leaf, 
dug  a  well  with  which  to  bless  the  thirsty  desert 
for  all  time.  The  bit  of  copper  was  at  the  bottom 


THE  FOUR -LEAVED   CLOVER  l8/ 

of  it.  The  effort  he  made  for  the  second  almost 
cost  him  his  life.  He  rescued  a  poor  slave  girl  in 
order  to  be  faithful  to  a  trust  imposed  in  him,  and 
taught  her  the  truths  of  Allah.  The  silver  leaf  was 
his  reward.  He  found  it  in  the  heathen  fetish 
which  she  gave  him  in  her  gratitude.  It  had  been 
her  god. 

"  I  am  not  sure  about  the  golden  leaf,  but  I  think 
it  was  the  reward  of  living  a  wise  and  honorable 
life.  The  day  of  his  birth  it  was  said  that  he  alone 
wept,  while  all  around  him  rejoiced;  and  he  re- 
solved to  live  so  well  that  at  the  day  of  his  death 
he  should  have  no  cause  for  tears,  and  all  around 
him  should  mourn.  No,  I'll  not  have  you  belittling 
my  hero,  Tremont.  There  was  no  luck  about  it 
whatsoever.  He  won  the  first  three  leaves  by  un- 
selfish service,  faithfulness  to  every  trust,  and  wise, 
honorable  living,  so  that  he  well  deserved  that  Para- 
dise should  bring  him  perfect  happiness." 

"  Girls !  "  cried  Betty,  her  face  lighting  up,  "  we 
must  be  warm  on  the  trail,  with  our  Tusitala  rings, 
our  Warwick  Hall  motto,  and  our  Order  of  Hilde- 
garde.  A  Road  of  the  Loving  Heart  is  as  hard 
to  dig  in  every  one's  memory  as  a  well  in  the  des- 
ert. If  we  keep  the  tryst  in  all  things,  we're  bound 


1 88  THE  LITTLE  COLONEL:  MAID  OF  HONOR 

to  find  the  silver  leaf,  and  think  of  the  wisdom  it 
takes  to  weave  with  the  honor  of  a  Hildegarde !  " 

Eugenia  interrupted  her :  "  Oh,  Betty,  please 
write  a  legend  of  the  shamrock  for  girls  that  will 
fit  modern  times.  In  the  old  style  there  are  always 
three  brothers  or  three  maidens  who  start  out  to 
find  a  thing,  and  only  the  last  one  or  the  youngest 
one  is  successful.  The  others  all  come  to  grief.  In 
yours  give  everybody  a  chance  to  be  happy. 

"  There  is  no  reason  why  every  maiden  shouldn't 
find  the  leaves  according  to  the  Tusitala  rings  and 
Ederyn's  motto  and  Hildegarde's  yardstick.  And 
then,  don't  you  see,  they  needn't  wait  till  the  end 
of  their  lives  for  the  diamond,  for  the  prince  will 
bring  it!  Don't  you  see?  It  is  his  coming  that 
makes  the  perfect  happiness !  " 

Phil  laughed.  "  Stuart's  face  shows  how  he 
appreciates  that  compliment,"  he  said,  "  and  as  for 
me  and  all  the  other  sons  of  Adam,  oh,  fair  layde, 
I  make  my  bow !  "  Springing  to  his  feet,  he  swept 
her  an  elaborate  curtsey,  holding  out  his  coat  as  if 
it  were  the  ball-gown  of  some  stately  dame  in  a 
minuet. 

Lloyd,  sitting  on  the  grass  with  her  hands  clasped 
on  her  knees,  looked  around  the  circle  of  smiling 


THE  POUR -LEAVED  CLOVER  189 

faces,  and  then  gave  her  shoulders  a  whimsical 
shrug. 

"  That's  all  right  if  the  prince  comes''  she  ex- 
claimed. "  But  how  is  one  to  get  the  diamond  leaf 
if  he  doesn't?  Mammy  Eastah  told  my  fortune  in 
a  teacup,  and  she  said :  '  I  see  a  risin'  sun,  and  a 
row  of  lovahs,  but  I  don't  see  you  a-takin'  any  of 
'em,  honey.  Yo'  ways  am  ways  of  pleasantness, 
and  all  yo'  paths  is  peace,  but  I'se  powahful  skeered 
you'se  goin'  to  be  an  ole  maid.  I  sholy  is,  if  the 
teacup  signs  p'int  right.'  " 

"  It  will  be  your  own  fault,  then,"  answered  Phil. 
"  The  row  of  lovers  is  there  in  the  teacup  for  you. 
You've  only  to  take  your  pick." 

"  But,"  began  Rob,  "  maybe  it  is  just  as  well  that 
she  shouldn't  choose  any  of  them.  The  prince's 
coming  doesn't  always  bring  happiness.  Look  at 
old  Mr.  Deckly.  For  thirty  years  he  and  his  fair 
bride  have  led  a  regular  cat  and  dog  life.  And 
there  are  the  Twicketts  and  the  Graysons  and  the 
Blackstones  right  in  this  one  little  valley,  to  say 
nothing  of  all  the  troubles  one  reads  of  in  the 
papers." 

"  No ! "  contradicted  Eugenia,  emphatically. 
"  You  have  no  right  to  hold  them  up  as  exam- 
ples. It  is  plainly  to  be  seen  that  Mrs.  Deckly  and 


190  TtfE  LITTL&  COLONEL-.  MAID  OF  HONOR 

Mrs.  Twickett  and  Mrs.  Grayson  and  Mrs.  Black- 
stone  were  not  Hildegardes.  They  failed  to  earn 
their  third  leaf  by  doing  their  weaving  wisely. 
They  didn't  use  their  yardsticks.  They  looked  only 
at  the  '  village  churls,'  and  wove  their  webs  to  fit 
their  unworthy  shoulders,  so  that  the  men  they 
married  were  not  princes,  and  they  couldn't  bring 
the  diamond  leaf." 

"  The  name  of  the  prince  need  not  always  be 
Man,  need  it?"  ventured  Joyce.  "Couldn't  it  be 
Success?  It  seems  to  me  that  if  I  had  struggled 
along  for  years,  trying  to  make  the  most  of  my 
little  ability,  had  worked  just  as  faithfully  and 
wisely  at  my  art  as  I  could,  it  would  be  perfect 
happiness  to  have  the  world  award  me  the  place 
of  a  great  artist.  It  would  be  as  much  to  me  as 
the  diamond  leaf  that  marriage  could  bring.  I 
should  think  you'd  feel  that  way,  too,  Betty,  about 
your  writing.  There  are  marriages  that  are  fail- 
ures just  as  there  are  artistic  and  literary  careers 
that  are  failures,  and  there  are  diamond  leaves  to 
reward  the  work  and  waiting  of  old  maids,  just  as 
there  are  diamond  leaves  to  reward  the  Hildegardes 
who  use  their  yardsticks.  Sometimes  there  are 
girls  who  don't  marry  because  they  sacrifice  their 
lives  to  taking  care  of  their  families,  or  living  for 


THE  FOUR -LEAVED   CLOVER  191 

those  who  are  dependent  on  them.  Surely  there 
must  be  a  blessedness  and  a  happiness  for  them 
greater  than  any  diamond  leaf  a  prince  coufd 
bring." 

"  There  is  probably,"  answered  Eugenia,  "  but 
it  seems  as  if  most  people  of  that  kind  have  to  wait 
till  they  get  to  Paradise  to  find  it." 

"  I  don't  think  so,"  said  Betty.  "  I  believe  all 
the  dear  old-maid  aunts  and  daughters,  who  earn 
the  first  three  leaves,  find  the  fourth  waiting  some- 
where in  this  world.  It  is  only  the  selfish  ones, 
who  slight  their  share  of  the  duties  life  imposes 
on  every  one,  who  are  cross  and  unlovely  and  un- 
loved. They  probably  would  not  have  been  happy 
wives  if  they  had  married." 

"  Well,  but  what  about  me! "  persisted  Lloyd. 
"  I  nevah  expect  to  have  a  career,  so  Success  in 
big  lettahs  will  nevah  bring  me  a  medal  or  a 
chromo.  I  am  not  sacrificing  my  life  for  anybody's 
comfort,  and  I  can  nevah  have  any  little  nieces  and 
nephews  to  whom  I  can  be  one  of  those  deah  old 
aunts  Betty  talks  about,  and  there  is  that  dreadful 
teacup ! " 

She  did  not  hear  Doctor  Bradford's  laughing 
answer,  for  Phil,  turning  his  back  on  the  others, 
looked  down  into  her  upturned  face  and  began  to 


IQ2    THE  LITTLE   COLONEL  :  MAID   OF  HONOR 

hum,  as  if  to  himself,  "  From  the  desert  I  come  to 
thee! "  Only  Mary  understood  the  significance  of 
it  as  Lloyd  did,  and  she  knew  why  Lloyd  suddenly 
turned  away  and  began  passing  her  hands  over  the 
grass  around  her,  as  if  resuming  her  search.  She 
wanted  to  hide  her  face,  into  which  the  color  was 
creeping. 

A  train  whistled  somewhere  far  across  the  or- 
chard, and  Rob  took  out  his  watch.  The  sight  of  it 
suggested  something  in  line  with  the  conversation, 
for  when  he  had  noted  the  time,  he  touched  the 
spring  that  opened  the  back  of  the  case. 

"  Never  you  mind,  Little  Colonel,"  he  said,  in 
a  patronizing,  big-brotherly  tone.  "  If  nobody  else 
will  stand  between  you  and  that  teacup,  /'//  come 
to  the  rescue.  Bobby  won't  go  back  on  his  old 
chum.  /'//  bring  you  a  four-leaf  clover.  Here's 
one,  all  ready  and  waiting." 

Lloyd  looked  across  at  the  watch  he  held  out  to 
her.  "  Law,  Bobby,"  she  exclaimed,  giving  him 
the  old  name  she  had  called  him  when  they  first 
played  together,  "  I  supposed  you  had  lost  that 
clovah  long  ago." 

"  Not  much,"  he  answered.  "  It's  the  finest  hoo- 
doo ever  was.  It  helped  me  through  high  school. 
I  swear  I  never  could  have  passed  in  Latin  but 


THE  FOUR -LEAVED   CLOVER  193 

for  your  good-luck  charm.  It's  certainly  to  my 
interest  to  hang  on  to  it. 

"  Think  of  it,  Mary,"  he  added,  seeing  that  her 
eyes  were  round  with  interest,  "  that  was  given  to 
me  by  a  princess." 

Mary  darted  a  quick  look  at  Lloyd  and  another 
one  at  him  to  see  if  he  were  teasing. 

"  Oh,  I  seel "  she  remarked,  in  a  tone  of  enlight- 
enment. 

"  What  do  you  see?"  he  demanded,  laughing. 

She  would  not  answer,  but,  ignoring  his  further 
attempts  to  make  her  talk,  she,  too,  turned  again 
to  search  for  clovers,  inwardly  excited  over  the 
discovery  she  thought  she  had  made.  She  would 
make  a  note  of  it  in  her  journal,  she  decided,  some- 
thing like  this :  "  The  plot  thickens.  The  B.  M. 
and  Sir  F.  have  a  rival  they  little  suspect.  R.  car- 
ries the  charm  the  M.  of  H.  gave  him  in  years  gone 
by,  and  I  can  see  many  reasons  why  he  should  be 
the  one  to  bring  her  the  diamond  leaf." 

Only  two  dozen  clovers  rewarded  their  united 
search,  but  Eugenia  was  satisfied.  "  We'll  put  them 
in  the  boxes  haphazard,"  she  said,  "  and  the  uncer- 
tainty of  getting  one  will  make  it  more  exciting 
than  if  there  were  one  for  every  box." 

The  path  back  to  the  house  led  past  the  kitchen, 


194    THE   LITTLE    COLONEL:   MAID   OF  HONOR 

where  several  colored  women  were  helping  Aunt 
Cindy.  Just  as  they  passed,  one  of  them  put  her 
head  out  of  the  door  to  call  to  a  group  of  children 
crowded  around  one  of  the  windows  of  the  great 
house.  They  were  watching  the  decorators  at  work 
inside  the  drawing-room,  hanging  the  gate  of  roses 
in  the  arch.  The  youngest  one  was  perched  on  a 
barrel  that  had  been  dragged  up  for  that  purpose, 
so  that  his  older  brothers  and  sisters  might  be 
spared  the  weariness  of  holding  him  up  to  see.  A 
narrow  board  laid  across  the  top  made  an  uneasy 
and  precarious  perch  for  him.  He  was  seated 
astride,  with  his  bare  black  legs  dangling  down 
inside  the  barrel. 

"  You  M'haley  Gibbs,"  called  the  woman,  "  don't 
you  let  Ca'line  Allison  lean  agin  that  bo'd.  It'll 
upset  Sweety  into  the  bar'l." 

Her  warning  came  too  late,  for  even  as  she  called 
the  slight  board  was  pushed  off  its  foundations  by 
the  weight  of  the  roly-poly  Ca'line  Allison,  and 
the  pickaninny  went  down  into  the  barrel  as  sud- 
denly as  a  candle  is  snuffed  out  by  the  wind. 

"  You  M'haley,  I'll  natcherly  lay  you  out," 
shrieked  the  woman,  hurrying  up  the  path  to  the 
rescue.  But  M'haley,  made  agile  by  fifteen  years 
of  constant  practice,  dodged  the  cuffing  as  it  was 


THE  FOUR- LEAVED  CLOVER  195 

about  to  descend,  and  scuttled  around  the  house 
to  wait  till  Sweety  stopped  howling. 

"  They  are  Sylvia  Gibbs's  children,"  said  Lloyd, 
in  answer  to  Doctor  Bradford's  astonished  com- 
ment at  seeing  so  many  little  negroes  in  a  row. 
"  They  can  scent  a  pahty  five  miles  away,  and 
they  hang  around  like  little  black  buzzahds  wait- 
ing for  scraps  of  the  feast.  I  suppose  they  feel 
they  have  a  right  to  be  heah  to-day,  as  Sylvia  is 
helping  in  the  kitchen.  They're  the  same  children, 
Eugenia,"  she  added,  "  who  were  heah  so  much 
when  I  had  my  first  house-pahty.  M'haley  is  the 
one  who  brought  you  that  awful,  skinny,  mottled 
chicken  in  a  bandbox  for  you  to  '  take  home  on 
the  kyers  fo'  a  pet,'  she  said." 

"  So  she  is !  "  exclaimed  Eugenia,  as  they  passed 
around  the  corner  of  the  house  and  caught  sight 
of  M'haley,  who  was  peeping  out  to  see  if  the  storm 
was  over,  and  if  it  would  be  safe  to  return  to  the 
sightseeing  at  the  window.  Her  teeth  and  eyeballs 
were  ashine  with  pleasure  when  Eugenia  passed 
on,  after  a  pleasant  greeting  and  some  reference  to 
the  chicken.  She  felt  it  a  great  honor  to  be  remem- 
bered by  the  bride,  and  thanked  again,  after  all 
these  years,  for  her  parting  gift.  She  gave  a  little 
giggle  when  Lloyd  came  up,  and  said,  with  a  coy 


196    THE  LITTLE  COLONEL :  MAID  OF  HONOR 

self-conscious  air  that  was  extremely  amusing  to 
the  Northern  man,  who  had  never  met  this  type 
of  the  race  before,  "  I'se  a  maid  of  honah,  too,  Miss 
Lloyd." 

"  You  are!  "  was  the  surprised  answer.  "  How 
does  that  happen  ?  " 

"  Mammy's  gwine  to  git  married  agin,  to  Mistah 
Robinson,  and  she  says  nobody  has  a  bettah  right 
than  me  to  be  maid  of  honah  to  her  own  ma's  wed- 
din'.  So  that's  how  come  she  toted  us  all  along  to 
you-all's  weddin',  so  that  Sweety  and  Ca'line  and 
the  boys  could  learn  how  to  act  at  her  and  Mistah 
Robinson's." 

"  When  is  it  to  be?"  inquired  Lloyd. 

"  To-morrow  night.  Mammy's  done  give  her 
fish-fry  and  ice-cream  festible,  and  she  cleahed 
enough  to  pay  the  weddin'  expenses.  You-all's 
suah  gwine  to  git  an  invite,  Miss  Lloyd." 

"It  is  sort  of  a  benefit,"  Betty  explained  to 
Miles  Bradford,  as  they  walked  on.  "  Instead  of 
giving  a  concert  or  a  recital,  the  colored  people  here 
give  a  fish-fry  and  festival  whenever  they  are  in 
need  of  money.  They  used  to  have  them  just  to 
raise  funds  for  the  church,  but  now  it  is  quite  popu- 
lar for  individuals  to  give  them  when  there  is  a 
funeral  or  a  wedding  to  be  paid  for.  I  am  so  glad 


THE  FOUR -LEAVED   CLOVER  IQ? 

you  are  going  to  stay  over  a  few  days.  We  can 
show  you  sights  you've  never  dreamed  of  in  the 
North." 

Eugenia,  first  to  step  into  the  hall,  gave  a  cry 
of  pleasure.  The  florist  and  his  assistants  had  been 
there  in  their  absence,  and  were  just  leaving.  They 
had  turned  the  entire  house  into  a  rose-garden. 
Hall,  drawing-room,  and  library,  and  the  dining- 
room  beyond  were  filled  with  such  lavishness  that 
it  seemed  as  if  June  herself  had  taken  possession, 
with  all  her  court.  Stuart  and  Eugenia  paused 
before  the  tall  gate  of  smilax  and  American  beau- 
ties. 

"  It  is  the  Gate  into  Paradise,  sweetheart,"  he 
whispered,  looking  through  its  blossom-covered 
bars  to  the  altar  beyond,  that  had  been  built  in  the 
bay-window  of  the  drawing-room,  and  covered  with 
white  roses. 

"  Yes,"  answered  Eugenia,  smiling  up  at  him. 
"  The  legend  is  right.  We  must  enter  Paradise  to 
find  the  diamond  leaf.  But  I  was  right,  too.  It 
is  my  prince  who  will  bring  mine  to  me." 


CHAPTER   XII. 

THE   WEDDING 

LUNCH  was  served  on  the  porch,  for  the  tables 
for  the  wedding  supper  were  already  spread  in  the 
dining-room,  and  Alec  had  locked  the  doors  that 
nothing  might  disturb  its  perfect  order. 

"  I  think  we  are  really  going  to  be  able  to  avoid 
that  last  wild  rush  which  usually  accompanies 
home  weddings,"  said  Mrs.  Sherman,  as  they  sat 
leisurely  talking  over  the  dessert.  "  Usually  the 
bridesmaids'  gloves  are  missing,  or  the  bride's  slip- 
pers have  been  packed  into  one  of  the  trunks  and 
sent  on  ahead  to  the  depot.  But  this  time  I  have 
tried  to  have  everything  so  perfectly  arranged  that 
the  wedding  will  come  to  pass  as  quietly  and  nat- 
urally as  a  flower  opens.  I  want  to  have  every- 
thing give  the  impression  of  having  bloomed  into 
place." 

"  Eliot  and  Mom  Beck  are  certainly  doing  their 
part  to  make  such  a.n  impression,"  said  Eugenia. 


THE    WEDDING  199 

"  Eliot  has  already  counted  over  every  article  I  am 
to  wear,  a  dozen  times,  and  they're  all  laid  out  in 
readiness,  even  to  the  '  something  blue.'  " 

"  Oh,  that  reminds  me ! "  began  Lloyd,  then 
stopped  abruptly.  Nobody  noticed  the  exclamation, 
however,  but  Mary,  and,  with  swift  intuition,  she 
guessed  what  the  something  blue  had  suggested  to 
the  maid  of  honor.  It  was  that  bit  of  turquoise 
that  caused  the  only  scramble  in  the  preparations, 
for  Lloyd  could  not  remember  where  she  had  put 
it. 

"  I  was  suah  I  dropped  it  into  one  of  the  boxes 
in  my  top  bureau  drawer,"  she  said  to  herself  on 
the  way  up-stairs.  Then,  with  her  finger  on  her 
lip,  she  stopped  on  the  threshold  of  the  sewing- 
room  to  consider.  She  remembered  that  when  she 
gave  up  her  room  to  the  guests,  all  the  boxes  had 
been  taken  out  of  that  drawer.  Some  of  them  had 
been  put  in  the  sewing-room  closet,  and  some  car- 
ried to  a  room  at  the  end  of  the  back  hall,  where 
trunks  and  hampers  were  stored. 

Now,  while  Betty  was  down-stairs,  helping  with 
a  few  last  details,  Lloyd  took  advantage  of  her 
absence  to  search  all  the  boxes  in  the  closet  and 
drawers  of  the  sewing-room,  but  the  missing  tur- 
quoise was  not  in  any  of  them. 


20O    THE  LITTLE   COLONEL:   MAID   OF  HONOR 

"  I  know  I  ought  to  be  taking  a  beauty  sleep," 
she  thought,  "  so  I'll  be  all  fresh  and  fine  for  the 
evening,  but  I  must  find  it,  for  I  promised  Phil  I'd 
wear  it." 

In  the  general  shifting  of  furniture  to  accommo- 
date so  many  guests,  several  articles  had  found 
their  way  back  among  the  trunks.  Among  them 
was  an  old  rocking-chair.  It  was  drawn  up  to  the 
window  now,  and,  as  Lloyd  pushed  open  the  door, 
to  her  surprise  she  found  Mary  Ware  half-hidden 
in  its  roomy  depths.  She  was  tilted  back  in  it  with 
a  book  in  her  hands. 

Mary  was  as  surprised  as  Lloyd.  She  had  been 
so  absorbed  in  the  story  that  she  did  not  hear  the 
knob  turn,  and  as  the  hinges  suddenly  creaked,  she 
started  half  out  of  her  chair. 

"  Oh !  "  she  exclaimed,  settling  back  when  she 
saw  it  was  only  Lloyd.  "  You  frightened  me 
nearly  out  of  my  wits.  I  didn't  know  that  any- 
body ever  came  in  here."  Then  she  seemed  to  feel 
that  some  explanation  of  her  presence  was  neces- 
sary. 

"  I  came  in  here  because  our  room  is  full  of 
clothes,  spread  out  ready  to  wear.  They're  all  over 
the  room,  —  mine  on  one  side  and  Joyce's  on  the 
other.  I  was  so  afraid  I'd  forget  and  flop  down  on 


THE    WEDDING  2OI 

them,  or  misplace  something,  that  I  came  in  here  to 
read  awhile.  It  makes  the  afternoon  go  faster. 
Seems  to  me  it  never  will  be  time  to  dress." 

Lloyd  stood  looking  at  the  shelves  around  the 
room,  then  said :  "If  time  hangs  so  heavy  on  yoah 
hands,  I  believe  I'll  ask  you  to  help  me  hunt  for 
something  I  have  lost.  It's  just  a  trifle,  and  maybe 
it  is  foolish  for  me  to  try  to  find  it  now,  when 
everything  is  in  such  confusion,  but  it  is  something 
that  I  want  especially." 

"  I'd  love  to  help  hunt,"  exclaimed  Mary,  putting 
down  her  book  and  holding  out  her  arms  to  take 
the  boxes  which  Lloyd  was  reaching  down  from 
the  shelves.  One  by  one  she  piled  them  on  a  pack- 
ing-trunk behind  her,  and  then  climbed  up  beside 
them,  sitting  Turk  fashion  in  their  midst,  and  leav- 
ing the  chair  by  the  window  for  Lloyd. 

"  It's  just  a  scrap  of  unset  turquoise,"  explained 
Lloyd,  as  she  unwrapped  a  small  package,  "  no 
larger  than  one  of  the  beads  on  this  fan-chain.  I 
was  in  a  big  hurry  when  I  dropped  it  into  my 
drawer,  and  I  didn't  notice  which  box  I  put  it  in. 
So  we'll  have  to  take  out  all  these  ribbons  and  laces 
and  handkerchiefs  and  sachet-bags." 

It  was  the  first  time  during  her  visit  that  Mary 
had  been  entirely  alone  with  her  adored  Princess, 


202    THE   LITTLE   COLONEL:   MAID   OF  HONOR 

and  to  be  with  her  now  in  this  intimate  way, 
smoothing  her  dainty  ribbons,  peeping  into  her 
private  boxes,  and  handling  her  pretty  belongings, 
gave  her  a  pleasure  that  was  indescribable. 

"Shall  I  open  this,  too?"  she  asked,  presently, 
picking  up  a  package  wrapped  in  an  old  gauze 
veil. 

Lloyd  glanced  up.  "Yes;  although  I  haven't 
the  slightest  idea  what  it  can  be." 

A  faint,  delicious  odor  stole  out  as  Mary  un- 
wound the  veil,  an  odor  of  sandalwood,  that  to  her 
was  always  suggestive  of  the  "  Arabian  Nights," 
of  beautiful  Oriental  things,  and  of  hidden  treas- 
ures in  secret  panels  of  old  castles. 

"  I've  hunted  for  that  box  high  and  low !  "  cried 
Lloyd,  reaching  forward  to  take  it.  "  Mom  Beck 
must  have  wrapped  it  so,  to  keep  the  dust  out  of 
the  carving.  I  nevah  thought  of  looking  inside 
that  old  veil  for  anything  of  any  account.  I  think 
moah  of  what  it  holds  than  any  othah  ornament 
I  own." 

Mary  watched  her  curiously  as  she  threw  back 
the  lid  and  lifted  out  a  necklace  of  little  Roman 
pearls.  Lloyd  dangled  it  in  front  of  her,  lifting 
the  shining  string  its  full  length,  then  letting  it  slip 
back  into  her  palm,  where  it  lay  a  shimmering  mass 


THE    WEDDING  2O3 

of  tiny  lustrous  spheres.  Regarding  it  intently, 
she  said,  with  one  of  those  unaccountable  impulses 
which  sometimes  seize  people : 

"  Mary,  I've  a  great  mind  to  tell  you  something 
I've  nevah  yet  told  a  soul,  —  how  it  was  I  came 
to  make  this  necklace.  I  believe  I'll  weah  it  when 
I  stand  up  at  the  altah  with  Eugenia.  It  seems 
the  most  appropriate  kind  of  a  necklace  that  a  maid 
of  honah  could  weah." 

The  story  of  Ederyn  and  the  king's  tryst  was 
fresh  in  Mary's  mind,  for  Betty  had  told  it  at  the 
lunch-table  half  an  hour  before,  in  answer  to  Doc- 
tor Bradford's  question  about  the  motto  of  War- 
wick Hall;  the  motto  which  Betty  declared  was  a 
surer  guide-post  to  the  silver  leaf  of  the  magic 
shamrock  than  the  one  Abdallah  followed. 

"  I  can't  undahstand,"  began  Lloyd,  "  why  I 
should  be  telling  this  to  a  little  thing  like  you,  when 
I  hid  it  from  Betty  as  if  it  were  a  crime.  I  knew 
she  would  think  it  a  beautiful  idea,  —  marking 
each  day  with  a  pearl  when  its  duties  had  been  well 
done,  but  I  was  half -afraid  that  she  would  think 
it  conceited  of  me  —  conceited  for  me  to  count 
that  any  of  my  days  were  perfect  enough  to  be 
marked  with  a  pearl.  But  it  wasn't  that  I  thought 
them  so.  It  was  only  that  I  tried  my  hardest  to 


2O4    THE  LITTLE   COLONEL:  MAID   OF  HONOR 

make  the  most  of  them,  —  in  my  classes  and  every 
way,  you  know." 

As  Lloyd  went  on,  telling  of  the  times  she  had 
'failed  and  times  she  had  succeeded,  Mary  felt  as 
if  she  were  listening  to  the  confessions  of  a  white 
Easter  lily.  It  seemed  perfectly  justifiable  to  her 
that  Lloyd  should  have  had  tantrums,  and  stormed 
at  the  doctor  when  he  forbade  her  going  back  to 
school  after  the  Christmas  vacation,  and  that  she 
should  have  cried  and  moped  and  made  everybody 
around  her  miserable  for  days.  Mary's  overween- 
ing admiration  for  the  Princess  carried  her  to  the 
point  of  feeling  that  everybody  ought  to  be  mis- 
erable when  she  was  unhappy.  In  Mary's  opinion 
it  was  positively  saintly  of  her  the  way  she  took 
up  her  rosary  again  after  awhile,  trying  to  string 
it  with  tokens  of  days  spent  unselfishly  at  home; 
days  unstained  by  regrets  and  tears  and  idle  re- 
pinings  for  what  could  not  be  helped. 

Mary  laughed  over  the  story  of  one  hard-earned 
pearl,  the  day  spent  in  making  pies  and  cleaning 
house  for  the  disagreeable  old  Mrs.  Perkins,  who 
didn't  want  to  be  reformed,  and  who  wouldn't 
stay  clean. 

"  I  haven't  the  faintest  idea  why  I  told  you  all 
this,"  said  Lloyd  at  last,  once  more  lifting  the  string 


THE   WEDDING  2O$ 

to  watch  the  light  shimmer  along  its  lustrous  length. 
"  But  now  you  see  why  I  prize  this  little  rosary 
so  highly.  It  was  what  lifted  me  out  of  my  dun- 
geon of  disappointment." 

Afterward  Mary  thought  of  a  dozen  things  she 
wished  she  had  said  to  Lloyd  while  they  were  there 
together  in  the  privacy  of  the  trunk-room.  She 
wished  she  had  let  her  know  in  some  way  how 
much  she  admired  her,  and  longed  to  be  like  her, 
and  how  she  was  going  to  try  all  the  rest  of  her 
life  to  be  a  real  maid  of  honor,  worthy  in  every 
way  of  her  love  and  confidence.  But  some  shy, 
unusual  feeling  of  constraint  crowded  the  unspoken 
words  back  into  her  throbbing  little  throat,  and  the 
opportunity  passed. 

Clasping  the  pearls  around  her  neck,  Lloyd 
picked  up  the  sandalwood  box  again  and  shook  it. 
"  Heah's  a  lot  of  loose  beads  of  all  kinds,  with  as 
many  colahs  as  a  kaleidoscope.  You  do  bead-work, 
don't  you,  Mary?  You  may  have  these  if  you  can 
use  them." 

In  response  to  her  eager  acceptance,  Lloyd  looked 
around  for  something  to  pour  the  beads  into. 
"  There's  an  empty  cologne  bottle  on  that  shelf 
above  yoah  head.  If  you  will  reach  it  down,  I'll 
poah  them  into  that." 


2O6    THE  LITTLE   COLONEL :   MAID    OF  HONOR 

Beads  of  various  sizes  and  colors,  from  garnet  to 
amber,  poured  in  a  rainbow  stream  from  the  box 
to  the  wide-necked  bottle.  Here  and  there  was  the 
glint  of  cut  steel  and  the  gleam  of  crystal,  and 
several  times  Mary  noticed  a  little  Roman  pearl 
like  those  on  the  rosary,  and  thought  with  a  thrill 
of  the  necklace  she  intended  to  begin  making  that 
very  day.  Suddenly  Lloyd  gave  an  exclamation 
and  reversed  the  gay-colored  stream,  pouring  it 
slowly  back  into  the*  box  from  the  bottle. 

"  I  thought  I  saw  that  turquoise,"  she  cried.  "  I 
remembah  now,  it  was  in  my  hand  when  I  took  off 
my  necklace,  and  I  must  have  dropped  them  in  heah 
togethah." 

She  parted  the  beads  with  a  cautious  forefinger, 
pushing  them  aside  one  at  a  time.  Presently  a  bit 
of  blue  rolled  uppermost,  and  she  looked  up  tri- 
umphantly. "  There  it  is !  " 

Mary  flushed  guiltily  at  sight  of  the  turquoise, 
wondering  what  Lloyd  would  think  if  she  knew  that 
she  had  overheard  what  Phil  had  said  about  that 
bit  of  something  blue.  She  went  back  to  her  chair 
and  her  book  by  the  window  after  Lloyd  left,  but 
the  book  lay  unopened  in  her  lap.  She  had  many 
things  to  think  of  while  she  slowly  turned  the  bottle 
between  herself  and  the  light  and  watched  its  shift- 


THE    WEDDING  2OJ 

ing  colors.     Several  times  a  black  bead  appeared 
among  the  others. 

"I'd  have  had  to  use  black  beads  more  than 
once,"  she  reflected,  "  if  /  had  been  making  a  ro- 
sary, for  there's  the  day  I  was  so  rude  to  Girlie  Dins- 
more,  and  the  awful  time  when  I  got  so  interested 
that  I  eavesdropped." 

The  wedding  was  all  that  Mrs.  Sherman  had 
planned,  everything  falling  into  place  as  beautifully 
and  naturally  as  the  unfolding  of  a  flower.  The 
assembled  guests  seated  in  the  great  bower  of  roses 
heard  a  low,  soft  trembling  of  harp-strings  deepen 
into  chords.  Then  to  this  accompaniment  two  vio- 
lins began  the  wedding-march,  and  the  great  gate 
of  roses  swung  wide.  As  Stuart  and  his  best  man 
entered  from  a  side  door  and  took  their  places  at 
the  altar  in  front  of  the  old  minister,  the  rest  of 
the  bridal  party  came  down  the  stairs:  Betty  and 
Miles  Bradford  first,  Joyce  and  Rob,  then  the  maid 
of  honor  walking  alone  with  her  armful  of  roses. 
After  her  came  the  bride  with  her  hand  on  her 
father's  arm. 

Just  at  that  instant  some  one  outside  drew  back 
the  shutters  in  the  bay-window,  and  a  flood  of  late 
afternoon  sunshine  streamed  across  the  room,  the 


208    THE  LITTLE   COLONEL:  MAID   OF  HONOR 

last  golden  rays  of  the  perfect  June  day  making 
a  path  of  light  from  the  gate  of  roses  to  the  white 
altar.  It  shone  full  across  Eugenia's  face,  down 
on  the  long-trained  shimmering  satin,  the  little 
gleaming  slippers,  the  filmy  veil  that  enveloped  her, 
the  pearls  that  glimmered  white  on  her  white  throat. 

Eliot,  standing  in  a  corner,  nervously  watching 
every  movement  with  twitching  lips,  relaxed  into 
a  smile.  "  It's  a  good  omen !  "  she  said,  half  under 
her  breath,  then  gave  a  startled  glance  around  to 
see  if  any  one  had  heard  her  speak  at  such  an  im- 
proper time. 

The  music  grew  softer  now,  so  faint  and  low 
it  seemed  the  mere  shadow  of  sound.  Above  the 
rare  sweetness  of  that  undertone  of  harp  and  vio- 
lins rose  the  words  of  the  ceremony:  "I,  Stuart, 
take  thee,  Eugenia,  to  be  my  wedded  wife." 

Mary,  standing  at  her  post  by  the  rose  gate,  felt 
a  queer  little  chill  creep  over  her.  It  was  so  sol- 
emn, so  very  much  more  solemn  than  she  had 
imagined  it  would  be.  She  wondered  how  she 
would  feel  if  the  time  ever  came  for  her  to  stand 
in  Eugenia's  place,  and  plight  her  faith  to  some 
man  in  that  way  —  "  for  better }  for  worse,  for 
richer,  for  poorer,  in  sickness  and  in  health,  until 
death  us  do  part." 


THE    WEDDING  2Og 

Eliot  was  crying  softly  in  her  corner  now.  Yes, 
getting  married  was  a  terribly  solemn  thing.  It 
didn't  end  with  the  ceremony  and  the  pretty  clothes 
and  the  shower  of  congratulations.  That  was  only 
the  beginning.  "  For  better,  for  worse,"  —  that 
might  mean  all  sorts  of  trouble  and  heartache. 
"  Sickness  and  death,"  —  it  meant  to  be  bound  all 
one's  life  to  one  person,  morning,  noon,  and  night. 
How  very,  very  careful  one  would  have  to  be  in 
choosing,  —  and  then  suppose  one  made  a  mistake 
and  thought  the  man  she  was  marrying  was  good 
and  honest  and  true,  and  he  wasn't!  It  would  be 
all  the  same,  for  "for  better,  for  worse,"  ran  the 
vow,  "  until  death  us  do  part." 

Then  and  there,  holding  fast  to  the  gate  of  roses, 
Mary  made  up  her  mind  that  she  could  never,  never 
screw  her  courage  up  to  the  point  of  taking  the 
vows  Eugenia  was  taking,  as  she  stood  with  her 
hand  clasped  in  Stuart's,  and  the  late  sunshine  of 
the  sweet  June  day  streaming  down  on  her  like  a 
benediction. 

"  It's  lots  safer  to  be  an  old  maid,"  thought 
Mary.  "  I'll  take  my  chances  getting  the  diamond 
leaf  some  other  way  than  marrying.  Anyhow,  if 
I  ever  should  make  a  choice,  I'll  ask  somebody  else's 
opinion,  like  I  do  when  I  go  shopping,  so  I'll  be 


2IO    THE  LITTLE    COLONEL:   MAID   OF  HONOR 

sure  I'm  getting  a  real  prince,  and  not  an  imita- 
tion one." 

It  was  all  over  in  another  moment.  Harp  and 
violins  burst  into  the  joyful  notes  of  Mendelssohn's 
march,  and  Stuart  and  Eugenia  turned  from  the 
altar  to  pass  through  the  rose  gate  together.  Lloyd 
and  Phil  followed,  then  the  other  attendants  in  the 
order  of  their  entrance.  On  the  wide  porch, 
screened  and  canopied  with  smilax  and  roses,  a 
cool  green  out-of-doors  reception-room  had  been 
made.  Here  they  stood  to  receive  their  guests. 

Mary,  in  all  the  glory  of  her  pink  chiffon  dress 
and  satin  slippers,  stood  at  the  end  of  the  receiving 
line,  feeling  that  this  one  experience  was  well  worth 
the  long  journey  from  Arizona.  So  thoroughly  did 
she  delight  in  her  part  of  the  affair,  and  so  heartily 
did  she  enter  into  her  duties,  that  more  than  one 
guest  passed  on,  smiling  at  her  evident  enjoyment. 

"  I  wish  this  wedding  could  last  a  week,"  she 
confided  to  Lieutenant  Logan,  when  he  paused  be- 
side her.  "  Don't  you  know,  they  did  in  the  fairy- 
tales, some  of  them.  There  was  '  feasting  and 
merrymaking  for  seventy  days  and  seventy  nights.' 
This  one  is  going  by  so  fast  that  it  will  soon  be 
train-time.  I  don't  suppose  they  care,"  she  added, 
with  a  nod  toward  the  bride,  "  for  they're  going 


THE    WEDDING  211 

to  spend  their  honeymoon  in  a  Gold  of  Ophir  rose- 
garden,  where  there  are  goldfish  in  the  fountains, 
and  real  orange-blossoms.  It's  out  in  California, 
at  Mister  Stuart's  grandfather's.  Elsie,  his  sister, 
couldn't  come,  so  they're  going  out  to  see  her,  and 
take  her  a  piece  of  every  kind  of  cake  we  have 
to-night,  and  a  sample  of  every  kind  of  bonbon. 
Don't  you  wonder  who'll  get  the  charms  in  the 
bride's  cake?  That's  the  only  reason  I  am  glad 
the  clock  is  going  so  fast.  It  will  soon  be  time  to 
cut  the  cake,  and  I'm  wild  to  see  who  gets  the  things 
in  it." 

The  last  glow  of  the  sunset  was  still  tinting  the 
sky  with  a  tender  pink  when  they  were  summoned 
to  the  dining-room,  but  indoors  it  had  grown  so 
dim  that  a  hundred  rose-colored  candles  had  been 
lighted.  Again  the  music  of  harp  and  violins 
floated  through  the  rose-scented  rooms.  As  Mary 
glanced  around  at  the  festive  scene,  the  tables 
gleaming  with  silver  and  cut  glass,  the  beautiful 
costumes,  the  smiling  faces,  a  line  from  her  old 
school  reader  kept  running  through  her  mind: 
"  And  all  went  merry  as  a  marriage-bell!  And  all 
went  merry  as  a  marriage-bell! " 

It  repeated  itself  over  and  over,  through  all  the 
gay  murmur  of  voices  as  the  supper  went  on, 


2 1 2    THE  LITTLE   COLONEL  :   MAID   OF  HONOR 

through  the  flowery  speech  of  the  old  Colonel 
when  he  stood  to  propose  a  toast,  through  the  happy 
tinkle  of  laughter  when  Stuart  responded,  through 
the  thrilling  moment  when  at  last  the  bride  rose  to 
cut  the  mammoth  cake.  In  her  nervous  excitement, 
Mary  actually  began  to  chant  the  line  aloud,  as  the 
first  slice  was  lifted  from  the  great  silver  salver : 
"  All  went  merry  —  "  Then  she  clapped  her  hand 
over  her  mouth,  but  nobody  had  noticed,  for  Alli- 
son had  drawn  the  wedding-ring,  and  a  chorus  of 
laughing  congratulations  was  drowning  out  every 
other  sound. 

As  the  cake  passed  on  from  guest  to  guest,  Betty 
cried  out  that  she  had  found  the  thimble.  Then 
Lloyd  held  up  the  crystal  charm,  the  one  the  bride 
had  said  was  doubly  lucky,  because  it  held  im- 
bedded in  its  centre  a  four-leaved  clover.  Nearly 
every  slice  had  been  crumbled  as  soon  as  it  was 
taken,  in  search  of  a  hidden  token,  but  Mary,  who 
had  not  dared  to  hope  that  she  might  draw  one, 
began  leisurely  eating  her  share.  Suddenly  her 
teeth  met  on  something  hard  and  flat,"  and  glancing 
down,  she  saw  the  edge  of  a  coin  protruding  from 
the  scrap  of  cake  she  held. 

"Oh,  it's  the  shilling!"  she  exclaimed,  in  such 
open-mouthed  astonishment  that  every  one  laughed, 


THE    WEDDING  213 

and  for  the  next  few  moments  she  was  the  centre 
of  the  congratulations.  Eugenia  took  a  narrow 
white  ribbon  from  one  of  the  dream-cake  boxes, 
and  passed  it  through  the  hole  in  the  shilling,  so 
that  she  could  hang  it  around  her  neck. 

"Destined  to  great  wealth!"  said  Rob,  with 
mock  solemnity.  "  I  always  did  think  I'd  like  to 
marry  an  heiress.  I'll  wait  for  you,  Mary." 

"  No,"  interrupted  Phil,  laughing,  "  fate  has 
decreed  that  I  should  be  the  lucky  man.  Don't  you 
see  that  it  is  Philip's  head  with  Mary's  on  that 
shilling?  " 

"Whew!"  teased  Kitty.  "Two  proposals  in 
one  evening,  Mary.  See  what  the  charm  has  done 
for  you  already !  " 

Mary  knew  that  they  were  joking,  but  she  turned 
the  color  of  her  dress,  and  sat  twiddling  the  coin 
between  her  thumb  and  finger,  too  embarrassed  to 
look  up.  They  sat  so  long  at  the  table  that  it  was 
almost  train-time  when  Eugenia  went  up-stairs  to 
put  on  her  travelling-dress.  She  made  a  pretty 
picture,  pausing  midway  up  the  stairs  in  her  bridal 
array,  the  veil  thrown  back,  and  her  happy  face 
looking  down  on  the  girls  gathered  below.  Lean- 
ing far  over  the  banister  with  the  bridal  bouquet  in 
her  hands,  she  called : 


214    THE  LITTLE   COLONEL:  MAID   OF  HONOR 

"  Now  look,  ye  pretty  maidens,  standing  all  a-row, 
The  one  who  catches  this,  the  next  bouquet  shall  throw." 

There  was  a  laughing  scramble  and  a  dozen 
hands  were  outstretched  to  receive  it.  "  Oh,  Joyce 
caught  it !  Joyce  caught  it !  "  cried  Mary,  dancing 
up  and  down  on  the  tips  of  her  toes,  and  clapping 
her  hands  over  her  mouth  to  stifle  the  squeal  of 
delight  that  had  almost  escaped.  "  Now,  some  day 
I  can  be  maid  of  honor." 

"  So  that's  why  you  are  so  happy  over  your 
sister's  good  fortune,  is  it?"  asked  Phil,  bent  on 
teasing  her  every  time  opportunity  offered. 

"  No,"  was  the  indignant  answer.  "  That  is! 
some  of  the  reason,  but  I'm  gladdest  because  she 
didn't  get  left  out  of  everything.  She  didn't  get 
one  of  the  cake  charms,  so  I  hoped  she  would  catch 
the  bouquet." 

When  the  carriage  drove  away  at  last,  a  row  of 
shiny  black  faces  was  lined  up  each  side  of  the 
avenue.  All  the  Gibbs  children  were  there,  and 
Aunt  Cindy's  other  grandchildren,  with  their  hands 
full  of  rice. 

"  Speed  'em  well,  chillun! "  called  old  Cindy, 
waving  her  apron.  The  rice  fell  in  showers  on  the 
top  of  the  departing  carriage,  and  two  little  white 
slippers  were  sent  flying  along  after  it,  with  such 


THE    WEDDING  215 

force  that  they  nearly  struck  Eliot,  sitting  beside 
the  coachman.  Tired  as  she  was,  she  turned  to 
smile  approval,  for  the  slippers  were  a  good  omen, 
too,  in  her  opinion,  and  she  was  happy  to  think  that 
everything  about  her  Miss  Eugenia's  wedding  had 
been  carried  out  properly,  down  to  this  last  pro- 
pitious detail. 

As  the  slippers  struck  the  ground,  quick  as  a  cat, 
M'haley  darted  forward  to  grab  them.  "  Them 
slippahs  is  mates !  "  she  announced,  gleefully,  "  and 
I'm  goin'  to  tote  'em  home  for  we-all's  wedding. 
I  kain't  squeeze  into  'em  myself,  but  Ca'line  Allison 
suah  kin." 

Once  more,  and  for  the  last  time,  Eugenia  leaned 
out  of  the  carriage  to  look  back  at  the  dear  faces 
she  was  leaving.  But  there  was  no  sadness  in  the 
farewell.  Her  prince  was  beside  her,  and  the  Gold 
of  Ophir  rose-garden  lay  ahead. 


CHAPTER    XIII. 

DREAMS   AND   WARNINGS 

"  IT'S  all  ovah  now !  "  exclaimed  Lloyd;  stifling 
a  yawn  and  looking  around  the  deserted  drawing- 
room,  where  the  candles  burned  low  in  their 
sconces,  and  the  faded  roses  were  dropping  their 
petals  on  the  floor.  Mr.  Forbes  and  Doctor  Tre- 
mont  had  just  driven  away  to  catch  the  midnight 
express  for  New  York,  and  the  last  guest  but  Rob 
had  departed. 

"  It's  all  over  with  that  gown  of  yours,  too,  isn't 
it?"  asked  Phil,  glancing  at  the  airy  pink  skirt, 
down  whose  entire  front  breadth  ran  a  wide,  zig- 
zag rent.  "  It's  too  bad,  for  it's  the  most  becoming 
one  I've  seen  you  wear  yet.  I'm  sorry  it  must  be 
retired  from  public  life  so  early  in  its  career." 

Lloyd  drew  the  edges  of  the  largest  holes  to- 
gether. "  Yes,  it's  ruined  beyond  all  hope,  for  I 
stepped  cleah  through  it  when  I  tripped  on  the 
stairs,  and  it  pulled  apart  in  at  least  a  dozen  places, 
216 


DREAMS  AND    WARNINGS  21  / 

just  as  a  thin  veil  would.  But  you'll  see  it  again, 
and  on  anothah  maid  of  honah.  M'haley  nevah 
waited  to  see  if  I  was  hurt,  but  pounced  on  it  and 
began  to  beg  for  it  befoah  I  got  my  breath  again. 
She  said  she  could  fix  it  good  enough  for  her  to 
weah  to  her  mammy's  wedding.  She  would  '  turn 
it  hine  side  befo' '  and  tie  her  big  blue  sash  ovah  it. 
Imagine!  She'll  be  heah  at  the  break  of  day  to 
get  it." 

"  Do  you  know  it  is  almost  that  time  now  ?  " 
asked  Betty,  coming  in  from  the  dining-room  with 
seven  little  heart-shaped  boxes.  "  Here's  our  cake, 
and  godmother  says  we'd  better  take  it  and  go  to 
dreaming  on  it  soon,  or  the  sun  will  be  up  before 
we  get  started." 

"  Now  remembah,"  warned  Lloyd,  as  Rob  slipped 
his  box  into  his  pocket  and  began  looking  around 
for  his  hat,  "  we  have  all  promised  to  tell  our 
dreams  to  each  othah  in  the  mawning.  We'll  wait 
for  you,  so  come  ovah  early.  Come  to  break- 
fast." 

"  Thanks.  I'll  be  on  hand  all  right.  I'll  probably 
have  to  wake  the  rest  of  you." 

"  Don't  you  do  it !  "  exclaimed  Phil.  "  I'll  warn 
you  now,  if  you're  waking,  don't  call  me  early, 
mother,  dear.  If  you  do,  to-morrow  won't  be  the 


2l8    THE  LITTLE    COLONEL:   MAID    OF  HONOR 

happiest  day  of  all  your  glad  New  Year.  I'll  prom- 
ise you  that  How  about  you,  Bradford?  " 

"  Oh,  I'm  thinking  of  sitting  up  all  night,"  he 
answered,  laughing,  "  to  escape  having  any  dreams. 
Miss  Mary  assures  me  they  will  come  true,  and  one 
might  have  a  nightmare  after  such  a  spread  as  that 
wedding-supper.  I  can  hardly  afford  to  take  such 
risks." 

A  moment  after,  Rob's  whistle  sounded  cheerfully 
down  the  avenue  and  Alec  was  going  around  the 
house,  putting  out  the  down-stairs  lights.  Late  as 
it  was,  when  they  reached  their  room,  Joyce  stopped 
to  smooth  every  wrinkle  out  of  her  bridesmaid 
dress,  and  spread  it  out  carefully  in  the  tray  of  her 
trunk. 

"  It  is  so  beautiful,"  she  said,  as  she  plumped  the 
sleeves  into  shape  with  tissue-paper.  "  As  long  as 
an  accident  had  to  happen  to  one  of  us  it  was  lucky 
that  it  was  Lloyd's  dress  that  was  torn.  She  has 
so  many  she  wouldn't  wear  it  often  anyhow,  and 
this  will  be  my  best  evening  gown  all  summer.  I 
expect  to  get  lots  of  good  out  of  it  at  the  seashore." 

"  I'm  glad  it  wasn't  mine  that  was  torn,"  re- 
sponded Mary,  following  Joyce's  example  and  fold- 
ing hers  away  also,  with  many  loving  pats.  "  Prob- 
ably there'll  be  a  good  many  times  I  can  wear  it 


DREAMS  AND    WARNINGS  2IQ 

here  this  summer,  but  there'll  never  be  a  chance  on 
the  desert,  and  I  shall  have  outgrown  it  by  next 
summer,  so  when  I  go  home  I'm  going  to  lay  it 
away  in  rose-leaves  with  these  darling  little  satin 
slippers,  because  I've  had  the  best  time  of  my  life 
in  them.  In  the  morning  Betty  and  I  are  going 
to  pick  all  the  faded  roses  to  pieces  and  save  the 
petals.  Eugenia  wants  to  fill  a  rose-jar  with  part 
of  them.  Betty  knows  how  to  make  that  potpourri 
that  Lloyd's  Grandmother  Amanthis  always  kept 
in  the  rose-jars  in  the  drawing-room.  She's  copied 
the  receipt  for  me. 

"  I'm  not  a  bit  sleepy,"  she  continued.  "  I've  had 
such  a  beautiful  time  I  could  lie  awake  all  the  rest 
of  the  night  thinking  about  it.  Maybe  it's  because 
I  drank  coffee  when  I'm  not  used  to  it  that  I'm  so 
wide  awake,  and  I  ate  —  oh,  how  I  ate !  " 

One  by  one  the  up-stairs  lights  went  out,  and  a 
deep  silence  fell  on  the  old  mansion.  The  ticking 
of  the  great  clock  on  the  stairs  was  the  only  sound. 
The  serene  peace  of  the  starlit  night  settled  over 
The  Locusts  like  brooding  wings.  The  clock 
struck  one,  then  two,  and  the  long  hand  was  half- 
way around  its  face  again  before  any  other  sound 
but  the  musical  chime  broke  the  stillness.  Then  a 
succession  of  strangled  moans  began  to  penetrate 


220    THE  LITTLE   COLONEL  :  MAID   OF  HONOR 

the  consciousness  of  even  the  soundest  sleeper. 
Whoever  it  was  that  was  trying  to  call  for  help  was 
evidently  terrified,  and  the  terror  of  the  cries  sent 
a  cold  chill  through  every  one  who  heard  them. 

"  It's  burglars,"  shrieked  Lloyd,  sitting  up  in  bed. 
"  Papa  Jack !  They're  in  Joyce's  room !  They're 
trying  to  strangle  her!  Papa  Jack!  " 

Lights  glimmered  in  every  room,  and  doors  flew 
open  along  the  hall.  A  dishevelled  little  group  in 
bath-robes  and  pajamas  rushed  out,  Mr.  Sherman 
with  a  revolver,  Miles  Bradford  with  a  heavy 
Indian  club,  and  Phil  with  his  walking-stick  with 
the  electric  battery  in  its  head.  He  flashed  it  like  a 
search-light  up  and  down  the  hall. 

At  the  first  moan,  Joyce  had  wakened,  and  real- 
izing that  it  came  from  Mary's  corner  of  the  room, 
began  to  grope  on  the  table  beside  her  bed  for 
matches.  Her  fingers  trembled  so  she  could  scarcely 
muster  strength  to  scratch  the  match  when  she 
found  it.  Then  she  glanced  across  the  room  and 
began  to  laugh  hysterically. 

"  It's  all  right!  "  she  called.  "  Nobody's  killed! 
Mary's  just  having  a  nightmare !  " 

By  this  time  Mr.  Sherman  had  opened  the  door, 
and  the  blinding  glare  of  Phil's  electric  light  flashed 
full  in  Mary's  eyes.  At  the  same  instant  Lloyd 


DREAMS  AND    WARNINGS  221 

opened  the  door  on  the  other  side,  between  the  two 
rooms,  and  Betty  and  Mrs.  Sherman  followed  her 
in.  So  when  Mary  struggled  back  to  wakefulness 
far  enough  to  sit  up  and  look  around  in  a  dazed 
way,  the  room  seemed  full  of  people  and  lights  and 
voices,  and  she  tried  to  ask  what  had  happened. 
She  was  still  sobbing  and  trembling. 

"What's  the  matter,  Mary?"  called  Phil  from 
the  hall.  "  Were  the  Indians  after  you  again?  " 

"  Oh,  it  was  awfuller  than  Indians,"  wailed 
Mary,  in  a  shrill,  excited  voice.  "  It  was  the  worst 
nightmare  I  ever  had!  I  can't  shake  it  off.  I'm 
scared  yet." 

"  Tell  us  about  it,"  said  Mrs.  Sherman,  sooth- 
ingly. "  That's  the  best  remedy,  for  the  terror 
always  evaporates  in  the  telling,  and  makes  one 
wonder  how  anything  foolish  could  have  seemed 
frightful." 

"I  —  was  being  married,"  wailed  Mary,  "  to  a 
man  I  couldn't  see.  And  just  as  soon  as  it  was  over 
he  turned  from  the  altar  and  said,  '  Now  we'll  begin 
to  lead  a  cat  and  dog  life.'  And,  oh,  it  was  so 
awful,"  she  continued,  sobbingly,  the  terror  of  the 
dream  still  holding  her,  "he  —  he  barked  at  me! 
And  he  showed  his  teeth,  and  I  had  to  spit  and  mew 
and  hump  my  back  whether  I  wanted  to  or  not." 


222    THE  LITTLE    COLONEL  :   MAID    OF  HONOR 

Her  voice  grew  higher  and  more  excited  with  every 
sentence.  "  And  I  could  feel  my  claws  growing 
longer  and  longer,  and  I  knew  I'd  never  'have  fingers 
again,  only  just  paws  with  fur  on  'em !  Ugh !  It 
made  me  sick  to  feel  the  fur  growing  over  me  that 
way.  I  cried  and  cried.  Now  as  I  tell  about  it, 
it  begins  to  sound  silly,  but  it  was  awful  then,  —  so 
dark,  and  me  hanging  by  my  claws  to  the  edge  of 
the  wood-shed  roof,  ready  to  drop  off.  I  thought 
Phil  was  in  the  house,  and  I  tried  to  call  him,  but  I 
couldn't  remember  his  name.  I  got  mixed  up  with 
the  Philip  on  the  shilling,  and  I  kept  yelling,  Shill ! 
Philling!  Shilling!  and  I  couldn't  make  him  under- 
stand. He  wouldn't  come !  " 

As  she  picked  up  the  corner  of  the  sheet  to  wipe 
her  eyes  Mrs.  Sherman  and  the  girls  burst  out 
laughing,  and  there  was  an  echoing  peal  of  .amuse- 
ment in  the  hall.  The  affair  would  not  have  seemed 
half  so  ridiculous  in  the  daylight,  but  to  be  called  out 
of  bed  at  that  hour  to  listen  to  such  a  dream,  told 
only  as  Mary  Ware  could  tell  it,  impressed  the  entire 
family  as  one  of  the  funniest  things  that  had  ever 
happened.  They  laughed  till  the  tears  came. 

"  I  don't  see  what  ever  put  such  a  silly  thing  into 
my  head,"  said  Mary,  finally,  beginning  to  feel  mor- 


DREAMS  AND    WARNINGS  22$ 

tified  as  she  realized  what  an  excitement  she  had 
created  for  nothing. 

"  It  was  Rob's  talking  about  people  who  live  a 
regular  cat  and  dog  life,"  said  Betty.  "  Don't  you 
remember  how  long  we  talked  about  it  to-day  down 
in  the  clover-patch  ?  " 

"  You  mean  yesterday,"  prompted  Phil  from  the 
'hall,  "  for  it's  nearly  morning  now.  And,  Mary,  I'll 
tell  you  why  you  had  it.  It's  a  warning !  A  solemn 
warning!  It  means  that  you  must  never,  never 
marry." 

"  That's  what  I  thought,  too,"  quavered  Mary, 
so  seriously  that  they  all  laughed  again. 

"  I  hope  everybody  will  excuse  me  for  waking 
them  up,"  called  Mary,  as  they  began  to  disperse 
to  their  rooms.  "  Oh,  'dear!  "  she  added  to  Joyce, 
as  she  lay  back  once  more  on  her  pillow.  "  Why 
is  it  that  I  am  always  doing  such  mortifying  things ! 
I  am  so  ashamed  of  myself." 

The  lights  went  out  again,  and  after  a  few  final 
giggles  from  Lloyd  and  Betty,  silence  settled  once 
more  over  the  house.  But  the  terror  of  the  night- 
mare had  taken  such  hold  upon  Mary  that  she  could 
not  close  her  eyes. 

"  Joyce,"  she  whispered,  "  do  you  mind  if  I  come 


224    THE  LITTLE   COLONEL:  MAID   OF  HONOR 

over  into  your  bed?  I'm  nearly  paralyzed,  I'm  so 
scared  again." 

Slipping  across  the  floor  as  soon  as  Joyce  had 
given  a  sleepy  consent,  Mary  crept  in  beside  her 
sister  in  the  narrow  bed,  and  lay  so  still  she  scarcely 
breathed,  for  fear  of  disturbing  her.  Presently  she 
reached  out  and  gently  clasped  the  end  of  Joyce's 
long  plait  of  hair.  It  was  comforting  to  be  so  near 
her.  But  even  that  failed  to  convince  her  entirely 
that  the  dream  was  a  thing  of  imagination.  It 
seemed  so  real,  that  several  times  before  she  fell 
asleep  she  laid  her  hands  against  her  face  to  make 
sure  that  her  ringers  had  not  developed  claws,  and 
that  no  fur  had  started  to  grow  on  them. 

The  dreams  told  around  the  breakfast-table  next 
morning  seemed  tame  in  comparison  to  Mary's  re- 
cital the  night  before.  Rob  had  had  none  at  all, 
which  was  interpreted  to  mean  that  he  would  live 
and  die  an  old  bachelor.  Miles  Bradford  had  a  dim 
recollection  of  being  in  an  automobile  with  a  girl 
who  seemed  to  be  a  sort  of  a  human  kaleidoscope, 
for  her  face  changed  as  the  dream  progressed,  until 
she  had  looked  like  every  woman  he  ever  knew. 
They  could  think  of  no  interpretation  for  that 
dream.  Lloyd's  was  fully  as  indefinite. 

"  I  thought  I  was  making  a  cake,"  she  said,  "  and 


DREAMS  AND    WARNINGS  22$ 

there  was  a  big  bowl  of  eggs  on  the  table.  But 
every  time  I  started  to  break  one  Mom  Beck  would 
say,  '  Don't  do  that,  honey.  Don't  you  see  it  is 
somebody's  haid?'  And  suah  enough,  every  egg 
I  took  up  had  somebody's  face  on  it,  like  those 
painted  Eastah  eggs;  Rob's,  and  Phil's,  and  Mal- 
colm's, and  Doctah  Bradford's,  and  evah  so  many 
I'd  nevah  seen  befoah." 

"  A  very  appropriate  dream  for  a  Queen  of 
Hearts,"  said  Phil,  "  and  anybody  can  see  it's  only 
a  repetition  of  Mammy  Easter's  fortune,  the  '  row 
of  lovahs  in  the  teacup.'  Tell  us  which  one  you 
are  going  to  choose." 

"  It's  Joyce's  turn,"  was  the  only  answer  Lloyd 
would  make. 

"  And  my  dream  was  positively  brilliant,"  replied 
Joyce.  "  I  thought  we  were  all  at  The  Beeches,  and 
Allison,  and  Kitty,  and  all  of  us  were  making  Lim- 
ericks. Kitty  began : 

" « There  was  a  lieutenant  named  Logan, 
Who  found  one  day  a  small  brogan.' 

Then  she  stuck,  and  couldn't  get  any  farther,  and 
Allison  had  to  be  smart  and  pun  on  my  name 
She  made  up  a  line : 

" «  So  what  will  Joyce  Ware  if  she  meets  a  great  bear  ?  ' 


226    THE  LITTLE   COLONEL  :  MAID  OF  HONOR 

Nobody  could  get  the  last  rhyme  for  awhile,  but 
after  floundering  around  a  few  minutes  I  had  a 
sudden  inspiration  and  sprang  up  and  struck  an 
attitude  as  if  I  were  on  the  stage,  and  solemnly 
thundered  out: 

"  '  And  how  can  he  shoot  him  with  no  gun  ?  * 

"  In  my  dream  it  seemed  the  most  thrilling  thing 
—  I  was  the  heroine  of  the  hour,  and  Lieutenant 
Logan  took  me  aside  and  told  me  that  the  question 
which  I  had  embodied  in  that  last  line  was  the  ques- 
tion of  the  ages.  It  had  staggered  the  philosophers 
and  scientists  of  all  times.  Nobody  could  answer 
that  question  — '  how  can  he  shoot  him  with  no 
gun/  and  he  was  a  better  and  a  happier  man,  to 
think  that  I  had  rhymed  that  ringing  query  with  the 
proud  name  of  Logan.  It's  the  silliest  dream  I  ever 
had,  but  you  can't  imagine  how  real  it  seemed  at 
the  time.  I  was  so  stuck  up  over  his  compliments 
that  I  began  flouncing  around  with  my  head  held 
high,  like  the  picture  of  '  Oh,  fie !  you  haughty 
Jane.'  " 

"  Oh,  Joyce,  what  a  dream  to  dream  on  wedding- 
cake  ! "  exclaimed  Mary,  with  a  long  indrawn 
breath.  There  was  no  mistaking  her  interpretation 
of  it.  Everybody  laughed,  and  Joyce  hastened  to 


DREAMS  AND   WARNINGS  22/ 

explain,  "  It  isn't  worth  anything,  Mary.  It'll  never 
come  true,  for  just  before  I  came  down-stairs  to 
breakfast  I  discovered  my  little  box  of  cake  lying  on 
the  table  under  a  pile  of  ribbons.  It  had  been  there 
all  night.  I  had  forgotten  to  put  it  under  my  pillow. 
And,"  she  added,  cutting  short  Mary's  exclamation 
of  disappointment,  "your  box  lay  beside  it.  We 
both  were  so  busy  putting  away  our  dresses,  and 
talking  over  the  wedding  that  we  forgot  the  most 
important  thing  of  all." 

"  Well,  I'm  certainly  glad  that  mine  wasn't  under 
my  head  when  I  had  that  dreadful  nightmare !  " 
exclaimed  Mary,  in  such  a  relieved  tone  that  every 
one  laughed  again.  "  I  couldn't  help  taking  it  as 
a  warning." 

"Joyce  and  I  must  have  changed  places  in  our 
sleep,"  said  Betty,  when  her  turn  came.  "  She  was 
making  verses,  and  I  was  trying  to  draw.  But  I 
did  my  drawing  with  a  thimble.  I  thought  some 
one  said,  '  Betty  always  likes  to  put  her  finger  in 
everybody's  pie,  and  now  she  has  a  fate  thimble  to 
wear  on  it,  she'll  mix  up  things  worse  than  ever.' 
And  I  said,  '  No,  I'll  be  very  conservative,  and  only 
make  a  diagram  of  the  way  the  animals  should  go 
into  the  ark,  and  then  let  them  do  as  they  please 
about  following  my  diagram.'  So  I  began  to  draw 


228    THE  LITTLE   COLONEL:  MAID   OF  HONOR 

with  the  thimble  on  my  finger,  but  instead  of  ani- 
mals going  into  the  ark  they  were  people  going  over 
Tanglewood  stile  into  the  churchyard,  and  then  into 
the  church  —  a  great  procession  of  people  in  the 
funniest  combinations.  There  was  old  Doctor 
Shelby  and  the  minister's  great-aunt,  Allison  and 
Lieutenant  Stanley,  Kitty  and  Doctor  Bradford, 
Lloyd  and  Rob,  and  dozens  and  dozens  besides." 

"  Lloyd  and  Rob,"  echoed  the  Little  Colonel,  her 
face  dimpling.  "  Think  of  that,  Bobby!  You  nevah 
in  yoah  wildest  dreams  thought  of  that  combination, 
now  did  you  ?  " 

"  No,  I  never  did,"  confessed  Rob,  with  an 
amused  smile.  "  Betty  has  just  put  it  into  my  head. 
She  is  like  the  old  woman  who  told  her  children  not 
to  put  beans  in  their  ears  while  she  was  gone.  They 
never  would  have  dreamed  of  doing  such  a  thing 
if  she  hadn't  suggested  it,  but,  of  course,  they 
wanted  to  see  how  it  would  feel,  and  immediately 
proceeded  to  fill  their  ears  with  beans  as  soon  as  her 
back  was  turned." 

"  You  can  profit  by  their  example,"  laughed 
Lloyd.  "  They  found  that  it  hurt.  It  would  have 
been  bettah  if  they  had  paid  no  attention  to  her 
suggestion." 

"Moral,"    added    Rob,    "don't    do    it.      Betty, 


DREAMS  AND    WARNINGS  22Q 

don't  you  dare  put  any  more  dangerous  notions  in 
my  head." 

Phil's  turn  came  next.  "  My  dream  is  soon  told," 
he  said.  "  I  had  been  sleeping  like  the  dead  —  a 
perfectly  dreamless  sleep  —  till  Mary  woke  us  up 
with  her  cat-fight.  That  aroused  me  so  thoroughly 
that  I  didn't  go  to  sleep  again  for  more  than  an 
hour.  Then  when  I  did  drop  off  at  nearly  morning, 
I  dreamed  that  there  was  a  spider  on  my  head,  and 
I  gave  it  a  tremendous  whack  to  kill  it.  It  was  no 
dream  whack,  I  can  tell  you,  but  a  real  live  double- 
fisted  one,  that  made  me  see  stars.  It  actually  made 
a  dent  in  my  cranium  and  got  me  so  wide  awake 
that  I  couldn't  drop  off  again.  I  got  up  and  sat  by 
the  window  till  there  were  faint  streaks  of  light  in 
the  sky.  I  did  the  rest  of  my  dreaming  with  my 
eyes  open,  so  I  don't  have  to  tell  what  it  was 
about." 

"  I  can  guess,"  thought  Mary,  intercepting  the 
swift  glance  he  stole  across  the  table  at  something 
blue.  This  time  it  was  the  ribbon  that  tied  Lloyd's 
hair,  a  big  bow  of  turquoise  taffeta,  knotted  becom- 
ingly at  the  back  of  her  neck.  Lloyd,  unconscious 
of  the  glance,  had  turned  to  speak  to  Miles  Brad- 
ford, to  answer  his  question  about  Sylvia  Gibbs's 
wedding. 


230    THE  LITTLE   COLONEL  :   MAID   OF  HONOR 

"  Yes,  it  really  is  to  take  place  to-night  in  the 
colohed  church.  M'haley  was  heah  befoah  we  were 
awake,  to  get  the  dress  and  to  repeat  the  invitation 
for  the  whole  family  to  attend.  There  are  evah  so 
many  white  folks  invited,  M'haley  says.  All  the 
Waltons  and  Maclntyres,  of  co'se,  because  Miss  Alli- 
son is  their  patron  saint,  and  they  swear  by  her, 
and  all  the  families  for  whom  Sylvia  has  washed." 

"  It  is  extremely  fortunate  for  those  of  us  who  are 
going  away  so  soon  that  she  set  the  date  as  early  as 
to-night,"  said  Doctor  Bradford.  "  Twenty-four 
hours  later  would  have  cut  us  out." 

Phil  interrupted  him.  "  Don't  bring  up  such  dis- 
agreeable topics  at  the  table,  Bradford.  It  takes 
my  appetite  to  think  that  we  have  only  one  more 
day  in  the  Valley  —  that  it  has  come  down  to  a 
matter  of  a  few  hours  before  we  must  begin  our 
farewells." 

"  Speaking  of  farewells,"  said  Rob,  "  who-all's 
coming  down  to  the  station  with  me  to  wave 
good-by  to  Miss  Bonham?  She  goes  back  to  Lex- 
ington this  morning." 

"  We'll  all  go,"  answered  Lloyd,  promptly. 
"  Mothah  will  be  glad  to  get  us  out  of  the  way  while 
the  servants  give  the  place  a  grand  '  aftah  the  ball ' 
cleaning,  and  Joyce  wants  to  see  the  girls  once  moah 


DREAMS  AND    WARNINGS  2$l 

befoah  she  begins  packing,  to  arrange  several  things 
about  their  journey." 

"  How  does  it  happen  that  Logan  and  Stanley  are 
not  going  with  Miss  Bonham  ?  "  asked  Rob.  "  Isn't 
their  time  up,  too,  or  can't  they  tear  themselves 
away  ?  " 

"  I  thought  you  knew,"  answered  Joyce.  "  Miss 
Allison  arranged  it  all  last  night.  You  know  she 
goes  up  to  Prout's  Neck,  in  Maine,  for  awhile  every 
summer,  and  this  year  Allison  and  Kitty  are  going 
with  her.  She  has  offered  to  take  me  under  her 
wing  all  the  way,  and  has'  arranged  her  route  to  go 
right  past  the  place  where  the  summer  art  school  is, 
on  Cape  Cod  coast.  Lieutenant  Logan  and  Lieu- 
tenant Stanley  are  staying  over  a  day  longer  than 
they  had  intended,  in  order  to  go  part  of  the  way 
with  us,  and  Phil  and  Doctor  Bradford  are  leaving 
a  day  earlier  to  take  advantage  of  such  good  com- 
pany all  the  way  home.  Won't  it  be  jolly,  —  eight 
of  us !  Kitty  calls  it  a  regular  house-party  on 
wheels." 

"  I  certainly  envy  you,"  answered  Rob.  "  Miss 
Allison  is  the  best  chaperone  that  can  be  imagined, 
just  like  a  girl  herself;  and  Allison  and  Kitty  are 
as  good  as  a  circus  any  day.  I'll  wager  it  didn't 
take  much  persuading  to  make  Stanley  stay  over. 


232    THE   LITTLE    COLONEL:  MAID    OF  HONOR 

He  hasn't  eyes  for  anything  or  anybody  but  Alli- 
son." 

"  He  had  eyes  for  Bernice  Howe  the  night  of 
Katie  Mallard's  musicale,"  said  Betty.  "  He  scarcely 
left  her." 

"Do  you  know  why?"  asked  Rob  in  an  aside. 
They  were  rising  from  the  table  now,  strolling  out 
to  the  chairs  and  hammocks  on  the  shady  porch. 
He  spoke  in  a  low  tone  as  he  walked  along  beside 
her. 

"  It  is  very  ungallant  for  me  to  say  such  a  thing, 
but  between  you  and  me  and  the  gate-post,  Betty, 
he  was  roped  into  being  so  attentive.  Bernice  Howe 
beats  any  girl  I  ever  saw  for  making  dates  with  fel- 
lows, and  handling  her  cards  so  as  to  make  it  seem 
she  is  immensely  popular.  It  is  an  old  trick  of  hers, 
and  that  night  it  was  very  apparent  what  she  was 
trying  to  do.  Alex  Shelby  was  there,  you  remem- 
ber, and  when  she  saw  him  talking  to  Lloyd  every 
chance  he  got,  she  didn't  want  it  to  appear  that  she 
was  being  neglected  by  the  man  who  had  brought 
her,  and  with  a  little  skilful  manoeuvring  she  man- 
aged to  bag  the  lieutenant's  attention.  I've  been 
wanting  to  ask  you  for  some  time,  why  is  it  that  she 
seems  so  down  on  the  Little  Colonel  ?  " 

"  She   isn't ! "    declared  Betty,   much  surprised. 


DREAMS  AND    WARNINGS  233 

"  You  must  be  letting  your  imagination  run  away 
with  you,  Rob.  There  isn't  a  girl  in  the  Valley 
friendlier  and  sweeter  to  Lloyd  than  Bernice  Howe. 
You  watch  them  next  time  they  are  together,  and 
see.  They've  been  good  friends  for  years." 

"  Then  all  I  can  say  is  that  some  girls  have  a 
queer  idea  of  friendship.  It's  downright  catty  the 
way  they  purr  and  rub  around  to  your  face,  and 
then  show  their  spiteful  little  claws  when  your  back 
is  turned.  That's  what  I've  noticed  Bernice  doing 
lately.  She  calls  her  all  the  sugary  names  in  the 
dictionary  when  she's  with  her,  but  when  her  back 
is  turned  —  well,  it's  just  a  shrug  of  the  shoulders 
or  a  lift  of  the  eyebrows  or  a  little  twist  of  the 
mouth  maybe,  but  they  insinuate  volumes.  What 
makes  girls  do  that  way,  Betty?  Boys  don't.  If 
they  have  any  grievance  they  fight  it  out  and  then 
let  each  other  alone." 

"  I'm  sure  I  don't  know  why,"  answered  Betty. 
"  I'll  be  honest  with  you  and  confess  that  you  are 
right.  Half  the  girls  at  school  were  that  way. 
They  might  be  fair  and  high-minded  about  every- 
thing else,  but  when  it  came  to  that  one  thing  they 
were  —  well,  as  you  say,  regular  cats.  They  didn't 
have  the  faintest  conception  of  what  a  David  and 
Jonathan  friendship  could  be  like.  Even  the  ordi- 


234    THE  LITTLE    COLONEL  :   MAID   OF  HONOR 

nary  kind  didn't  seem  to  bind  them  in  any  way,  or 
impose  any  obligation  on  them  when  their  own  in- 
terests were  concerned." 

"Deliver  me  from  such  friends!"  ejaculated 
Rob.  "  I'd  rather  have  a  sworn  enemy.  He 
wouldn't  do  me  half  the  harm."  Then  after  a  pause, 
"  I  suppose,  if  you  haven't  noticed  it,  then  Lloyd 
hasn't  either,  that  Bernice  is  bitterly  jealous  of  her." 

*  No,  I  am  sure  she  has  not" 

"  Then  I  wish  you'd  drop  her  a  hint.  I  couldn't 
mention  the  subject  to  her,  because  it  is  an  old  fight 
of  ours.  You  know  how  we've  squabbled  for  hours 
over  it  —  the  difference  between  the  codes  of  honor 
in  a  girl's  friendships  and  boys'.  No  matter  how 
carefully  I  made  the  distinction  that  I  meant  the 
average  girl,  and  not  all  of  them,  she  always  flared 
into  a  temper,  and  in  order  to  be  loyal  to  her  entire 
sex,  took  up  arms  against  me  in  a  regular  pitched 
battle.  She's  ordered  me  off  the  place  more  than 
once,  and  yet  in  her  soul  I  believe  she  agrees  with 
me." 

"  But,  Rob,  if  that  is  a  pet  theory  of  yours  that 
you  go  around  applying  in  a  wholesale  way,  isn't  it 
barely  possible  that  you've-  made  a  mistake  this 
time  and  imagined  that  Bernice  is  two-faced  in  her 
friendship  ?  " 


DREAMS  AND    WARNINGS  235 

Rob  shook  his  head.  "  She'll  be  at  the  station 
this  morning.  You  can  see  for  yourself,  if  you  keep 
your  eyes  open." 

"  Now,  to  be  explicit,  just  what  is  it  I  shall  see?  " 
retorted  Betty.  But  Phil  interrupted  their  tete-a- 
tete  at  that  point,  and  when  they  started  to  the  sta- 
tion an  hour  later,  her  question  was  still  unan- 
swered. Bernice  Howe  was  there,  as  Rob  had  pre- 
dicted, and  Katie  Mallard  and  several  other  of  the 
Valley  girls  who  had  enjoyed  the  hospitality  of  The 
Beeches  during  Miss  Bonham's  visit. 

"  It  looks  quite  like  a  garden-party,"  said  Miles 
Bradford  to  Miss  Allison,  watching  the  pretty  girls, 
in  their  light  summer  costumes,  flutter  around  the 
waiting-room.  "  I  don't  know  whether  to  compare 
them  to  a  flock  of  butterflies  or  a  bouquet  of  sweet 
peas.  I  am  glad  we  are  going  to  take  some  of  them 
with  us  to-morrow,  and  wish  —  " 

Betty,  who  had  turned  to  listen,  because  his  smil- 
ing glance  seemed  to  include  her  in  the  conversation, 
failed  to  hear  what  it  was  he  wished.  Bernice 
Howe,  who  was  standing  with  her  back  to  her,  took 
occasion  just  then  to  draw  Miss  Bonham  aside,  and 
her  voice,  although  pitched  in  a  low  key,  was  un- 
usually penetrating.  At  the  same  moment  the  en- 
tire party  shifted  positions  to  make  room  for  some 


236  THE  LITTLE  COLONEL  :  MAID  OF  HONOR 

new  arrivals  in  the  waiting-room,  and  Betty  was 
jostled  so  that  she  was  obliged  to  dodge  a  corpulent 
woman  with  a  carpet-bag  and  a  lunch-basket.  When 
she  recovered  her  balance  she  found  herself  out  of 
range  of  Doctor  Bradford's  voice,  but  almost  touch- 
ing elbows  with  Bernice.  She  was  saying : 

"  We're  going  to  miss  you  dreadfully,  Miss  Bon- 
ham.  I  always  do  miss  Allison's  guests  and  Kitty's 
nearly  as  much  as  my  own.  They're  so  dear  about 
sharing  them  with  me.  Now  some  girls  are  so 
stingy,  they  fairly  keep  their  visitors  under  lock  and 
key  —  that  is,  if  they  are  men.  They  wouldn't 
dream  of  taking  them  to  call  on  another  girl.  Afraid 
to,  I  suppose.  Afraid  of  losing  their  own  laurels. 
There's  one  of  the  kind." 

Betty  saw  her  nod  with  a  meaning  smile  toward 
Lloyd,  and  caught  another  sentence  or  two  in  which 
the  words,  "  Queen  of  Hearts,  tied  to  her  apron- 
string,"  gave  her  the  drift  of  the  remarks. 

"  She's  plainly  trying  to  give  Miss  Bonham  an 
unpleasant  impression  of  Lloyd  to  carry  away  with 
her,"  thought  Betty.  "  She's  hurt  because  she 
wasn't  invited  to  the  coon  hunt,  and  the  other  little 
affairs  we  had  for  the  bridal  party.  She  never  took 
it  into  consideration  that  what  would  have  been 
perfectly  convenient  at  another  time  was  out  of 


DREAMS  AND    WARNINGS  237 

the  question  when  the  house  was  so  full  of  guests 
and  all  torn  up  with  preparations  for  the  wedding. 
Lloyd  had  all  she  could  do  then  to  think  of  the 
guests  in  the  house,  without  considering  those  out- 
side. It  certainly  is  a  flimsy  sort  of  a  friendship 
that  can't  overlook  a  seeming  neglect  like  that  or 
make  due  allowances.  Besides,  if  she  feels  slighted, 
why  doesn't  she  keep  it  to  herself,  and  not  try  to 
get  even  by  giving  Miss  Bonham  a  false  impression 
of  her?  Rob  is  right.  Boys  don't  stoop  to  such 
mean  little  things.  In  the  first  place  they  don't 
magnify  trifles  into  big  grievances,  and  go  around 
feeling  slighted  and  hurt  over  nothing." 

"  Here  comes  the  train ! "  called  Ranald,  seizing 
Miss  Bonham's  suit-case  and  leading  the  way  to  the 
door.  There  was  a  moment  of  hurried  good-byes, 
a  fluttering  of  handkerchiefs,  a  waving  of  hats. 
Then  the  train  passed  on,  leaving  the  group  gazing 
after  it. 

"What  are  we  going  to  do  now?"  asked  Rob. 
"Will  you  all  come  over  to  the  store  and  have 
some  peanuts?" 

"  No,  you're  all  coming  up  home  with  me,"  said 
Lloyd,  "  Miss  Allison  and  everybody.  I  saw  Alec 
carrying  some  watahmelons  into  the  ice-house,  and 


238    THE  LITTLE   COLONEL  :  MAID   OF  HONOR 

they'll  be  good  and  cold  by  this  time.  We'll  cut 
them  out  on  the  lawn." 

Ranald  excused  himself,  saying  he  had  promised 
to  take  his  Aunt  Allison  to  the  dressmaker's  in  the 
pony-cart,  but  Allison  and  Kitty  promptly  accepted 
the  invitation  for  themselves  and  the  two  lieuten- 
ants. Katie  Mallard  walked  on  with  one  and  Joyce 
the  other,  Rob  and  Betty  bringing  up  the  rear. 
Lloyd  still  waited. 

"  Come  on,  Bernice,"  she  urged.  "  The  watah- 
melons  are  mighty  fine,  and  we'd  love  to  have  you 
come." 

"  No,  dearie,"  was  the  reply.  "  I've  a  lot  of 
things  to  do  to-day,  but  I'll  see  you  to-night  at  the 
darky  wedding." 

"  I'm  mighty  sorry  you  can't  come,"  called  Lloyd, 
then  hurried  on  to  catch  up  with  the  others.  As  she 
joined  Rob  and  Betty  she  felt  intuitively  they  had 
changed  their  subject  of  conversation  at  her  ap- 
proach. She  had  caught  the  question,  "  Then  are 
you  going  to  warn  her? "  and  Betty's  reply, 
"  What's  the  use  ?  It  would  only  make  her  feel 
bad." 

"What's  that  about  warnings?"  asked  Lloyd, 
catching  Betty's  hand  and  swinging  it  as  she  walked 
along  beside  her. 


DREAMS  AND    WARNINGS  239 

"  Something  that  Betty  doesn't  believe  in,"  began 
Rob,  "  just  as  I  don't  believe  in  dreams.  Why 
wouldn't  Bernice  come  with  you?" 

"  She  said  she  had  so  much  to  do.  Mistah  Shelby 
is  coming  out  latah.  He  is  going  to  take  her  to 
Sylvia's  wedding  to-night." 

"  Speaking  of  warnings,"  burst  out  Rob,  impul- 
sively, "  I'm  going  to  give  you  one,  Lloyd,  whether 
you  like  it  or  not.  Don't  be  too  smiling  and  gra- 
cious when  you  meet  Alex  Shelby,  or  Bernice  will 
be  assaulting  you  for  poaching  on  her  preserves. 
You  must  keep  out  of  her  bailiwick  if  you  want  to 
keep  her  friendship.  It's  the  kind  that  won't  stand 
much  of  a  strain." 

"  What  do  you  mean,  Rob  Moore  ?  "  demanded 
Lloyd,  hesitating  between  a  laugh  and  the  old  feel- 
ing of  anger  that  always  flashed  up  when  he  re- 
ferred to  girls'  friendships  in  that  superior  tone. 

"  I  am  devoted  to  Bernice  and  she  is  to  me.  If 
you  are  trying  to  pick  a  quarrel  you  may  as  well 
go  along  home,  for  I'm  positively  not  going  to  fuss 
with  you  about  anything  whatsoevah  until  aftah  all 
the  company  is  gone." 

"  No'm !  I  don't  want  to  quarrel,"  responded 
Rob,  with  exaggerated  meekness.  "  I  was  merely 


24O    THE  LITTLE    COLONEL  :  MAW   OF  HONOR 

giving  you  a  warning  —  sort  of  playing  Banshee 
for  your  benefit,  but  you  don't  seem  to  appreciate 
my  efforts.  Let's  talk  about  watermelons." 


CHAPTER    XIV. 

A   SECOND    MAID   OF    HONOR 

IT  was  a  new  experience  to  Miles  Bradford,  this 
trudging  through  the  dense  beech  woods  on  a  sum- 
mer night  behind  a  row  of  flickering  lanterns.  The 
path  they  followed  was  a  wide  one,  and  well  worn 
by  the  feet  of  churchgoing  negroes,  for  it  was  the 
shortest  cut  between  the  Valley  and  Stumptown,  a 
little  group  of  cabins  clustered  around  the  colored 
church. 

Ranald  led  the  way  with  a  brakeman's  lantern, 
and  Rob  occasionally  illuminated  the  scene  by  elec- 
tric flashes  from  the  head  of  the  walking-stick  he 
was  flourishing.  A  varied  string  of  fiery  dragons, 
winged  fish,  and  heathen  hobgoblins  danced  along 
beside  them,  for  Kitty  was  putting  candles  in  a 
row  of  Japanese  lanterns  when  they  arrived  at  The 
Beeches,  and  nearly  everybody  in  the  party  accepted 
her  invitation  to  take  one.  Mary  chose  a  sea-ser- 
pent with  a  grinning  face,  and  Elise  a  pretty  oval 
one  with  birds  and  cherry  blossoms  on  each  side. 
241 


242    THE  LITTLE    COLONEL:  MAID    OF  HONOR 

Lloyd  did  not  take  any.  Her  hands  were  already 
filled  with  a  huge  bouquet  of  red  roses. 

"  Sylvia  asked  me  to  carry  these,"  she  explained 
to  Miles  Bradford,  "  and  to  weah  a  white  dress  and 
this  hat  with  the  red  roses  on  it.  Because  I  was 
maid  of  honah  at  Eugenia's  wedding  she  seems  to 
think  I  can  reflect  some  sawt  of  glory  on  hers. 
She  said  she  wanted  all  her  young  ladies  to  weah 
white." 

"Who  are  her  young  ladies,  and  why?"  he 
asked. 

"  Allison,  Kitty,  Betty,  and  I.  You  see,  Sylvia's 
grand  fathah  was  the  Maclntyre's  coachman  befoah 
the  wah,  and  her  mothah  is  our  old  Aunt  Cindy. 
She  considahs  that  she  belongs  to  us  and  we  belong 
to  her." 

Farther  down  the  line  they  could  hear  Katie 
Mallard's  cheerful  giggle  as  she  tripped  over  a 
beech  root,  then  Bernice  Howe's  laugh  as  they  all 
went  slipping  and  sliding  down  a  steep  place  in  the 
path  which  led  to  the  hollow  crossed  by  the  dry 
creek  bed. 

"  Sing !  "  called  Miss  Allison,  who  was  chaperon- 
ing the  party,  and  picking  her  way  behind  the 
others  with  Mary  and  Elise  each  clinging  to  an 
arm.  "  There's  such  a  pretty  echo  down  in  this 


A   SECOND    MAID   OF  HONOR  243 

hollow.  Listen !  "  The  tune  that  she  started  was 
one  of  the  popular  songs  of  the  summer.  It  was 
caught  up  by  every  one  in  the  procession  except 
Miles  Bradford,  and  he  kept  silent  in  order  to  enjoy 
this  novel  pilgrimage  to  the  fullest.  The  dark 
woods  rang  with  the  sweet  chorus,  and  the  long 
line  of  fantastic  lanterns  sent  weird  shadows  bob- 
bing up  in  their  wake.  c 

The  bare,  unpainted  little  church  had  just  been 
lighted  when  they  arrived,  and  a  strong  smell  of 
coal-oil  and  smoking  wicks  greeted  them. 

"  It's  too  bad  we  are  so  early,"  said  Miss  Alli- 
son. "  Sylvia  would  have  preferred  us  to  come  in 
with  grand  effect  at  the  last  moment,  but  I'm  too 
tired  to  wait  for  the  bridal  party.  Let's  put  our 
lanterns  in  the  vestibule  and  go  in  and  find 
seats." 

A  pompous  mulatto  man  in  white  cotton  gloves 
and  with  a  cluster  of  tuberoses  in  his  buttonhole  ush- 
ered the  party  down  the  aisle  to  the  seats  of  honor 
reserved  for  the  white  folks.  There  were  seventeen 
in  the  party,  too  many  to  sit  comfortably  on  the 
two  benches,  so  a  chair  was  brought  for  Miss  Alli- 
son. After  the  grown  people  were  seated,  each  of 
the  little  girls  managed  to  squeeze  in  at  the  end  of 
the  seats  nearest  the  aisle.  Lloyd  found  herself 


244    THE  LITTLE   COLONEL :   MAID   OF  HONOR 

seated  between  Mary  Ware  and  Alex  Shelby. 
Leaning  forward  to  look  along  the  bench,  she 
found  that  Bernice  came  next  in  order  to  Alex, 
then  Lieutenant  Stanley  and  Allison,  Doctor  Brad- 
ford and  Betty. 

She  had  merely  said  good  evening  to  Alex 
Shelby  when  they  met  at  The  Beeches,  and,  al- 
though positions  in  the  procession  through  the 
woods  had  shifted  constantly,  it  had  happened  she 
had  not  been  near  enough  to  talk  with  him.  Now, 
with  only  Mary  Ware  to  claim  her  attention,  they 
naturally  fell  into  conversaton.  It  was  only  in 
whispers,  for  the  audience  was  assembling  rapidly, 
and  the  usher  had  opened  the  organ  in  token  that 
the  service  was  about  to  begin. 

There  had  been  an  attempt  to  decorate  for  the 
occasion.  Friends  of  the  bride  had  resurrected 
both  the  Christmas  and  Easter  mottoes,  so  that  the 
wall  behind  the  pulpit  bore  in  tall,  white  cotton 
letters,  on  a  background  of  cedar,  the  words, 
"Peace  on  Earth,  Good  Will  to  Men."  Fresh 
cedar  had  been  substituted  for  the  yellowed 
branches  left  over  from  the  previous  Christmas, 
and  fresh  diamond  dust  sprinkled  over  the  grimy 
cotton  to  give  it  its  pristine  sparkle  of  Yule-tide 
frost. 


A   SECOND  MAID    OF  HONOR  245 

"  An  appropriate  motto  for  a  wedding,"  whis- 
pered Alex  Shelby  to  Lloyd.  Only  his  eyes  laughed. 
His  face  was  as  solemn  as  the  usher's  own  as  he 
turned  to  gaze  at  the  word  "  Welcome  "  over  the 
door,  and  the  fringe  of  paper  Easter  lilies  draping 
the  top  of  each  uncurtained  window. 

Bernice  claimed  his  attention  several  moments, 
then  he  turned  to  Lloyd  again.  "  Do  tell  me,  Miss 
Lloyd,"  he  begged,  "  what  is  that  wonderfully  and 
fearfully  made  thing  in  the  front  of  the  pulpit? 
Is  it  a  doorway  or  a  giant  picture- frame?  And 
what  part  is  it  to  play  in  the  ceremony?  " 

Lloyd's  face  dimpled,  and  an  amused  smile 
flashed  up  at  him  from  the  corner  of  her  eye.  Then 
she  lowered  her  long  lashes  demurely,  and  seemed 
to  be  engrossed  with  her  bunch  of  roses  as  she 
answered  him. 

"  The  coquettish  thing!  "  thought  Bernice,  seeing 
the  glance  but  not  hearing  the  whisper  which  fol- 
lowed it. 

"Sh!  Don't  make  me  laugh!  Everybody  is 
watching  to  see  if  the  white  folks  are  making  fun 
of  things,  and  I'm  actually  afraid  to  look  up  again 
for  feah  I'll  giggle.  Maybe  it's  a  copy  of  Eugenia's 
gate  of  roses.  It  looks  like  the  frame  of  a  doah- 
way.  Just  the  casing,  you  know.  Maybe  it's  a 


246    THE  LITTLE   COLONEL:   MAID   OF  HONOR 

doah  of  mawning-glories  they're  going  to  pass 
through.  I  recognize  those  flowahs  twined  all 
around  it.  We  made  them  a  long  time  ago  for  the 
lamp-shades  when  the  King's  Daughtahs  had  an 
oystah  suppah  at  the  manse.  I  made  all  those 
purple  mawning-glories  and  Betty  made  the  yellow 
ones." 

Glancing  over  his  shoulder,  he  happened  to  spy  a 
familiar  face  behind  him,  the  kindly  old  black  face 
of  his  uncle's  cook. 

"  Howdy,  Aunt  Jane ! "  he  exclaimed,  with  a 
friendly  smile.  Then,  in  a  stage  whisper,  he  asked, 
"  Aunt  Jane,  can  you  tell  me  ?  Are  those  morning- 
glories  artificial  ?  " 

The  old  woman  wrinkled  her  face  into  a  knot 
as  she  peered  in  the  direction  of  the  pulpit,  toward 
which  he  nodded.  One  of  the  words  in  his  ques- 
tion puzzled  her.  It  was  a  stranger  to  her.  But, 
after  an  instant,  the  wrinkles  cleared  and  her  face 
broadened  into  a  smile. 

"  No'm,  Mistah  Alex.  Them  ain't  artificial  flow- 
ahs, honey.  They's  made  of  papah." 

Again  an  amused  smile  stole  out  of  the  corner 
of  Lloyd's  eye  to  answer  the  gleam  of  mischief  in 
Alex's.  Not  for  anything  would  she  have  Aunt 
Jane  think  that  she  was  laughing,  so  her  eyes  were 


A   SECOND   MAID    OF  HONOR  247 

bent  demurely  on  her  roses  again.  Again  Bernice, 
leaning  forward,  intercepted  the  glance  and  misin- 
terpreted it.  When  Alex  turned  to  her  to  repeat 
Aunt  Jane's  explanation,  she  barely  smiled,  then 
relapsed  into  sulky  silence.  Finding  several  other 
attempts  at  conversation  received  with  only  mono- 
syllables, he  concluded  that  she  was  not  in  a  mood 
to  talk,  and  naturally  turned  again  to  Lloyd. 

He  had  not  been  out  in  the  Valley  for  years,  he 
told  her.  The  last  visit  he  had  made  to  his  uncle, 
old  Doctor  Shelby,  had  been  the  summer  that  the 
Shermans  had  come  back  to  Lloydsboro  from  New 
York.  He  remembered  passing  her  one  day  on  the 
road.  She  had  squeezed  through  a  hole  in  the  fence 
between  two  broken  palings,  and  was  trying  to  pull 
a  little  dog  through  after  her;  a  shaggy  Scotch  and 
Skye  terrier. 

"  That  was  my  deah  old  Fritz,"  she  answered, 
"  and  I  was  probably  running  away.  I  did  it  every 
chance.  I  had." 

"  The  next  time  I  saw  you,"  he  continued,  "  I 
was  driving  along  with  uncle.  I  was  standing  be- 
tween his  knees,  I  remember,  proud  as  a  peacock 
because  he  was  letting  me  hold  the  reins.  I  was  just 
out  of  kilts,  so  it  was  a  great  honor  to  be  trusted 
with  the  lines.  When  we  passed  your  grandfather 


248    THE  LITTLE    COLONEL  :  MAID   OF  HONOR 

on  his  horse,  he  had  you  up  in  front  of  his  saddle, 
and  uncle  called  out,  '  Good  morning,  little 
Colonel.'  " 

These  reminiscences  pleased  Lloyd.  It  nattered 
her  to  think  he  remembered  these  early  meetings 
so  many  years  ago.  His  relationship  to  the  old 
doctor  whom  she  loved  as  her  own  uncle  put  him 
on  a  very  friendly  footing. 

The  church  filled  rapidly,  and  by  the  time  the 
seats  were  crowded  and  people  were  jostling  each 
other  to  find  standing-room  around  the  door,  a 
young  colored  girl  in  a  ruffled  yellow  dress  seated 
herself  at  the  organ.  First  she  pulled  out  all  the 
stops,  then  adjusting  a  pair  of  eyeglasses,  opened 
a  book  of  organ  exercises.  Then  she  felt  her  sash 
in  the  back,  settled  her  side-combs,  and  raising  her- 
self from  the  organ  bench,  smoothed  her  skirts  into 
proper  folds  under  her.  After  these  preliminaries 
she  leaned  back,  raised  both  hands  with  a  grand 
flourish,  and  swooped  down  on  the  keys. 

"  Bang  on  the  low  notes  and  twiddle  on  the 
high !  "  laughed  Lloyd,  under  her  breath.  "  Listen, 
Mistah  Shelby.  She's  playing  the  same  chord  in 
the  bass  straight  through." 

"  Is  that  what  makes  the  fearsome  discord?  "  he 
asked.  "  It  makes  me  think  of  an  epitaph  I  once 


A    SECOND  MAID    OF  HONOR  249 

saw  carved  on  a  pretentious  headstone  in  a  little 
village  cemetery: 

" «  Here  lies  one 

Who  never  let  her  left  hand  know 
What  her  right  hand  done.'  " 

"  Neithah  of  Laura's  hands  will  evah  find  out 
what  the  othah  one  is  trying  to  do,"  whispered 
Lloyd.  "  She  is  supposed  to  be  playing  the  wed- 
ding-march. Hark!  There  is  a  familiah  note: 
'  Heah  comes  the  bride.'  They  must  be  at  the  doah. 
Well,  I  wish  you'd  look!" 

Every  head  was  turned,  for  the  bridal  party  was 
advancing.  Slowly  down  the  aisle  came  M'haley, 
in  the  pink  chiffon  gown  from  Paris.  Mom  Beck's 
quick  needle  had  altered  it  considerably,  for  in  some 
unaccountable  way  the  slim  bodice  fashioned  to  fit 
Lloyd's  slender  figure,  now  fastened  around  M'ha- 
ley's  waist  without  undue  strain.  The  skirt,  though 
turned  "  hine  side  befo',"  fell  as  skirts  should  fall, 
for  the  fulness  had  been  shifted  to  the  proper 
places,  and  the  broad  sky-blue  sash  covered  the 
mended  holes  in  the  breadth  Lloyd  had  torn  on  the 
stairs. 

With  her  head  high,  and  her  armful  of  flowers 
held  in  precisely  the  same  position  in  which  Lloyd 


25O    THE  LITTLE   COLONEL  :  MAID   OF  HONOR 

had  carried  hers,  she  swept  down  the  aisle  in  such 
exact  imitation  of  the  other  maid  of  honor,  that 
every  one  who  had  seen  the  first  wedding  was  con- 
vulsed, and  Kitty's  whisper  about  "  Lloyd's  under- 
study "  was  passed  with  stifled  giggles  from  one  to 
another  down  both  benches. 

Ca'line  Allison  came  next,  in  a  white  dress  and 
the  white  slippers  that  had  been  thrown  after  Eu- 
genia's carriage  with  the  rice. 

She  was  flower  girl,  and  carried  an  elaborate 
fancy  basket  filled  with  field  daisies.  A  wreath  of 
the  same  snowy  blossoms  crowned  her  woolly  pate, 
and  an  expression  of  anxiety  drew  her  little  black 
face  into  a  distressed  pucker.  She  had  been  told 
that  at  every  third  step  she  must  throw  a  handful 
of  daisies  in  the  path  of  the  on-coming  bride,  and 
her  effort  to  keep  count  and  at  the  same  time  keep 
her  balance  on  the  high  French  heels  was  almost 
too  much  for  her. 

During  her  many  rehearsals  M'haley  had  counted 
her  steps  for  her :  "  One,  two,  three  —  throw! 
One,  two,  three  — « throw! "  She  had  gone  through 
her  part  every  time  without  mistake,  for  her  feet 
were  untrammelled  then,  and  her  flat  yellow  soles 
struck  the  ground  in  safety  and  with  rhythmic  pre- 
cision. She  could  give  her  entire  mind  to  the  grace- 


A   SECOND  MAID   OF  HONOR  25 1 

ful  scattering  of  her  posies.  But  now  she  walked 
as  if  she  were  mounted  on  stilts,  and  her  way  led 
over  thin  ice.  The  knowledge  that  she  must  keep 
her  own  count  was  disconcerting,  for  she  could 
not  "  count  in  her  haid,"  as  M'haley  had  ordered 
her  to  do.  She  was  obliged  to  whisper  the  num- 
bers loud  enough  for  herself  to  hear.  So  with  her 
forehead  drawn  into  an  anxious  pucker,  and  her  lips 
moving,  she  started  down  the  aisle  whispering, 
"One,  two,  three  —  throw!  One,  two,  three  — 
throw!"  Each  time,  as  she  reached  the  word 
"  throw  "  and  grasped  a  handful  of  daisies  to  suit 
the  action  to  the  word,  she  tilted  forward  on  the 
high  French  heels  and  almost  came  to  a  full  stop 
in  her  effort  to  regain  her  balance. 

But  Ca'line  Allison  was  a  plucky  little  body,  ac- 
customed to  walking  the  tops  of  fences  and  cooning 
out  on  the  limbs  of  high  trees,  so  she  reached  the 
altar  without  mishap.  Then  with  a  loud  sigh  of 
relief  she  settled  her  crown  of  daisies  and  rolled  her 
big  eyes  around  to  watch  the  majestic  approach  of 
her  mother. 

No  matron  of  the  four  hundred  could  have  swept 
down  the  aisle  with  a  grander  air  than  Sylvia.  The 
handsome  lavender  satin  skirt  she  wore  had  once 
trailed  its  way  through  one  of  the  most  elegant  re- 


252    THE  LITTLE   COLONEL:   MAID   OF  HONOR 

ceptions  ever  given  in  New  York,  and  afterward 
had  graced  several  Louisville  functions.  Its  owner 
had  given  Sylvia  the  bodice  also,  but  no  amount  of 
stretching  could  make  it  meet  around  Sylvia's  ample 
figure,  so  the  proceeds  of  the  fish-fry  and  ice-cream 
festival  had  been  invested  in  a  ready-made  silk 
waist.  It  was  not  the  same  shade  of  lavender  as  the 
skirt,  but  a  gorgeous  silver  tissue  belt  blinded  one 
to  such  differences.  The  long  kid  gloves,  almost 
dazzling  in  their  whiteness,  were  new,  the  fan  bor- 
rowed, and  the  touch  of  something  blue  was  fur- 
nished by  a  broad  back-comb  of  blue  enamel  sur- 
mounted by  rhinestones.  One  white  glove  rested 
airily  on  "  Mistah  Robinson's  "  coat-sleeve,  the  other 
carried  a  half-furled  fan  edged  with  white  feathers. 

M'haley  and  Ca'line  Allison  waited  at  the  altar, 
but  the  bridal  couple,  turning  to  the  right,  circled 
around  it  and  mounted  the  steps  leading  up  into 
the  pulpit.  The  mystery  of  the  wooden  frame  was 
explained  now.  It  was  not  a  symbolical  doorway 
through  which  they  were  to  pass,  but  a  huge  flower- 
draped  picture- frame  in  which  they  took  their 
places,  facing  the  congregation  like  two  life-sized 
portraits  in  charcoal. 

The  minister,  standing  meekly  below  them  be- 
tween M'haley  and  Ca'line  Allison,  with  his  back  to 


ONE,    TWO,    THREE —  THROW. 


A  SECOND  MAID   OF  HONOR  2$$ 

the  congregation,  prefaced  the  ceremony  by  a  long 
and  flowery  discourse  on  matrimony,  so  that  there 
was  ample  time  for  the  spectators  to  feast  their 
eyes  on  every  detail  of  the  picture  before  them. 
Except  for  a  slight  stir  now  and  then  as  some  neck 
was  craned  in  a  different  position  for  a  better  view, 
the  silence  was  profound,  until  the  benediction  was 
pronounced. 

At  the  signal  of  a  blast  from  the  wheezy  organ 
the  couple,  slowly  turning,  descended  the  steps. 
Ca'line  Allison,  in  her  haste  to  reach  the  aisle 
ahead  of  them  to  begin  her  posy-throwing  again, 
nearly  tilted  forward  on  her  nose.  But  with  a  little 
crow-hop  she  righted  herself  and  began  her  spas- 
modic whispering,  "  One,  two,  three  —  throw! " 

After  the  couple  came  M'haley  and  the  pompous 
young  minister.  Then  Lloyd,  who  had  caught  the 
bride's  smile  of  gratification  as  her  eyes  rested  on 
the  white  dress  and  red  roses  of  this  guest  of  honor, 
and  who  read  the  appealing  glance  that  seemed  to 
beckon  her,  rose  and  stepped  into  line.  The  rest  of 
Sylvia's  young  ladies  immediately  followed,  and  the 
congregation  waited  until  all  the  rest  of  the  white 
folks  passed  out,  before  crowding  to  the  carriage 
to  congratulate  "  Brothah  and  Sistah  Robinson." 

Lloyd  went  on  to  the  carriage  to  speak  to  Sylvia 


254    THE  LITTLE   COLONEL:  MAID   OF  HONOR 

and  give  her  the  armful  of  roses  to  decorate  the 
wedding- feast,  before  joining  the  others,  who  were 
lighting  the  lanterns  for  their  homeward  walk. 

"  You'd  better  come  in  the  light  of  ours,  Miss 
Lloyd,"  said  Alex  Shelby,  coming  up  to  her  with 
Bernice  beside  him.  "  We  might  as  well  take  the 
lead.  Ranald  seems  to  be  having  trouble  with  his 
wick." 

Lloyd  hesitated,  remembering  Rob's  warning, 
but  glancing  behind  her,  she  saw  Phil  hurrying 
toward  her,  and  abruptly  decided  to  accept  his  in- 
vitation. She  knew  that  Phil  was  trying  to  arrange 
to  walk  home  with  her.  This  would  be  his  last  op- 
portunity to  walk  with  her,  and  while  she  knew  that 
he  would  respect  her  promise  to  her  father  enough 
not  to  infringe  on  it  by  talking  openly  of  his  regard 
for  her,  his  constant  hints  and  allusions  would  keep 
her  uncomfortable.  He  seemed  to  take  it  for 
granted  that  she  was  bound  to  come  around  to  this 
point  of  view  some  day,  and  regard  him  as  the  one 
the  stars  had  destined  for  her. 

So  it  was  merely  to  escape  a  tete-a-tete  with  Phil 
which  made  her  walk  along  beside  Alex,  and  put 
out  a  hand  to  draw  Mary  Ware  to  the  other  side. 
She  linked  arms  with  her  as  they  pushed  through 
the  crowd,  and  started  down  the  road  four  abreast. 


A   SECOND   MAID    OF  HONOR  2$$ 

But  the  fences  were  lined  with  buggies  and  wagons, 
and  the  scraping  wheels  and  backing  horses  kept 
them  constantly  separating  and  dodging  back  and 
forth  across  the  road,  more  often  singly  than  in 
pairs. 

By  the  time  they  reached  the  gap  in  the  fence 
where  the  path  through  the  woods  began,  the  others 
had  caught  up  with  them,  and  they  all  scrambled 
through  in  a  bunch.  Lloyd  looked  around,  and, 
with  a  sensation  of  relief,  saw  that  Kitty  had  Phil 
safely  in  tow.  She  would  be  free  as  far  as  The 
Beeches,  at  any  rate.  At  a  call  from  Elise,  Mary 
ran  back  to  join  her.  Positions  were  being  con- 
stantly shifted  on  the  homeward  way,  just  as  they 
had  been  before,  and,  looking  around,  Lloyd  decided 
that  she  would  slip  back  presently  with  some  of  the 
others,  who  would  not  think  that  two  is  company 
and  three  a  crowd,  as  Bernice  might  be  doing.  The 
backward  glance  nearly  caused  her  a  fall,  for  a  big 
root  in  the  path  made  her  ankle  turn,  and  Alex 
Shelby's  quick  grasp  of  her  elbow  was  all  that  saved 
her. 

"  It  was  my  fault,  Miss  Lloyd,"  he  insisted.  "  I 
should  have  held  the  lantern  differently.  There, 
I'll  go  slightly  ahead  and  light  the  path  better.  Can 
you  see  all  right,  Bernice  ?  " 


256    THE  LITTLE    COLONEL:   MAID   OF  HONOR 

"  Yes,"  she  answered,  shortly,  out  of  humor  that 
he  should  be  as  careful  of  Lloyd's  comfort  as  her 
own.  She  trudged  along,  taking  no  part  in  the  con- 
versation. It  was  a  general  one,  extending  all  along 
the  line,  for  Rob  at  the  tail  and  Ranald  at  the  head 
shouted  jokes  and  questions  back  and  forth  like 
end-men  at  a  minstrel  show.  Laughing  allusions 
to  the  maid  of  honor  and  Ca'line  Allison  were 
bandied  back  and  forth,  and  when  the  line  grew 
unusually  straggling,  Kitty  would  bring  them  into 
step  with  her,  "  One,  two,  three  —  throw!  " 

Neither  Lloyd  nor  Alex  noticed  the  determined 
silence  in  which  Bernice  stalked  along,  and  when 
she  presently  slipped  back  with  the  excuse  that  she 
wanted  to  speak  to  Katie,  they  scarcely  missed  her. 
There  was  nothing  unusual  in  the  action,  as  all  the 
others  were  changing  company  at  intervals.  At 
the  entrance-gate  to  The  Beeches  she  joined  them 
again,  for  her  nearest  road  home  led  through  the 
Walton  place,  and  they  were  to  part  company  here 
with  Lloyd  and  her  guests. 

For  a  few  minutes  there  was  a  babel  of  good- 
nights  and  parting  sallies,  in  the  midst  of  which 
Alex  Shelby  managed  to  say  to  Lloyd  in  a  low  tone, 
"  Miss  Lloyd,  I  am  coming  out  to  the  Valley  again 
a  week  from  to-day.  If  you  haven't  any  engage- 


A   SECOND   MAID    OF  HONOR  2$? 

ment  for  the  afternoon  will  you  go  horseback-rid- 
ing with  me  ?  " 

The  consciousness  that  Bernice  had  heard  the 
invitation  and  was  displeased,  confused  her  so  that 
for  a  moment  she  lost  her  usual  ease  of  manner. 
She  wanted  to  go,  and  there  was  no  reason  why 
she  should  not  accept,  but  all  she  could  manage  to 
stammer  was  an  embarrassed,  "  Why,  yes  —  I  sup- 
pose so."  But  the  next  instant  recovering  herself, 
she  added,  graciously,  "  Yes,  Mistah  Shelby,  I'll 
be  glad  to  go." 

"  Come  on,  Lloyd,"  urged  Betty,  swinging  her 
hand  to  pull  her  into  the  group  now  drawn  up  on 
the  side  of  the  road  ready  to  start.  They  had  made 
their  adieux. 

"  All  right,"  she  answered,  locking  arms  with 
Betty.  "  Good  night,  Mistah  Shelby.  Good  night, 
Bernice." 

He  acknowledged  her  nod  with  a  courteous  lift- 
ing of  his  hat,  and  repeated  her  salutation.  But 
Bernice,  standing  stiff  and  angry  in  the  starlight, 
turned  on  her  heel  without  a  response. 

"  What  on  earth  do  you  suppose  is  the  mattah 
with  Bernice  ?  "  exclaimed  Lloyd,  in  amazement, 
as  they  turned  into  the  white  road  leading  toward 
home. 


CHAPTER   XV. 

THE   END  OF   THE   HOUSE  -  PARTY 

WITH  the  desire  to  make  this  last  walk  together 
as  pleasant  as  possible,  Lloyd  immediately  put  Ber- 
nice  out  of  her  mind  as  far  as  she  was  able.  But 
she  could  not  rid  herself  entirely  of  the  recollection 
that  something  disagreeable  had  happened.  The 
impression  bore  down  on  her  like  a  heavy  cloud, 
and  was  a  damper  on  her  high  spirits.  Outwardly 
she  was  as  gay  as  ever,  and  when  the  walk  was 
over,  led  the  party  on  a  foraging  expedition  to  the 
pantry. 

Rob  and  Phil  were  almost  unroarious  in  their 
merriment  now,  and,  as  they  devoured  cold  baked 
ham,  pickles,  cheese,  beaten  biscuit,  and  cake,  they 
had  a  fencing-match  with  carving-knives,  and  gave 
a  ridiculous  parody  of  the  balcony  scene  in  "  Romeo 
and  Juliet."  Mary,  looking  on  with  a  sandwich 
in  each  hand,  almost  choked  with  laughter,  although 
she,  too,  was  borne  down  by  the  same  feeling  that 
258 


THE  END   OF  THE  HOUSE -PARTY  259 

depressed  Lloyd,  of  something  very  disagreeable 
having  happened. 

She  had  been  so  ruffled  in  spirit  all  the  way  home 
that  she  had  lagged  behind  the  others,  and  it  was 
only  when  Rob  and  Phil  began  their  irresistible 
foolishness  that  she  had  forgotten  her  grievance 
long  enough  to  laugh.  No  sooner  had  they  all 
gone  up-stairs,  and  she  was  alone  with  Joyce,  than 
her  indignation  waxed  red-hot  again,  and  she  sput- 
tered out  the  whole  story  to  her  sister. 

"  And,"  she  said,  in  conclusion,  "  that  hateful 
Bernice  Howe  said  the  meanest  things  to  Katie. 
Elise  and  I  were  walking  just  behind,  and  we 
couldn't  help  hearing.  She  said  that  Lloyd  had 
deliberately  set  to  work  to  flirt  with  Mr.  Shelby, 
and  get  him  to  pay  her  attention,  and  that,  if  Katie 
would  watch,  she'd  soon  see  how  it  would  be.  He'd 
be  going  to  see  Lloyd  all  the  time  instead  of  her." 

"  Sh !  "  warned  Joyce.  "  They'll  hear  you  all 
over  the  house.  Your  voice  is  getting  higher  and 
higher." 

Her  warning  came  too  late.  Already  several 
sentences  had  penetrated  into  the  next  room,  and 
a  quick  knock  at  the  door  was  followed  by  the 
entrance  of  Lloyd,  looking  as  red  and  excited  as 
Mary. 


260    THE  LITTLE   COLONEL :  MAID   OF  HONOR 

"  Tell  me  what  it  was,  Mary,"  she  demanded. 
"  What  made  Bernice  act  so  ?  I  was  sure  you  knew 
from  the  way  you  looked  when  you  joined  us." 

Mary  was  almost  in  tears  as  she  repeated  what 
she  had  told  Joyce,  for  she  could  see  that  the  Little 
Colonel's  temper  was  rising  to  white  heat. 

"  And  Bernice  said  it  wasn't  the  first  time  you 
had  treated  her  so.  She  said  that  Malcolm  Mac- 
Intyre  was  so  attentive  to  her  last  summer  while 
you  were  away  at  the  Springs;  that  he  sent  her 
flowers  and  candy  and  took  her  driving,  and  was 
like  her  very  shadow  until  you  came  home.  Then 
he  dropped  her  like  a  hot  potato,  and  you  monop- 
olized him  so  that  you  succeeded  in  keeping  him 
away  from  her  altogether." 

"  Malcolm !  "  gasped  Lloyd.  "  Malcolm  was  my 
especial  friend  long  befoah  I  evah  heard  of  Bernice 
Howe!  Why,  at  the  very  first  Valentine  pahty  I 
evah  went  to,  he  gave  me  the  little  silvah  arrow 
he  won  in  the  archery  contest,  for  me  to  remembah 
him  by.  I've  got  it  on  this  very  minute." 

She  put  her  hand  up  to  the  little  silver  pin  that 
fastened  the  lace  of  her  surplice  collar.  "  Malcolm 
always  has  called  himself  my  devoted  knight,  and 
he  —  " 

She  paused.    There  were  some  things  she  could 


THE  END   OF  THE  HOUSE- PARTY  26l 

not  repeat;  that  scene  on  the  churchyard  stile  the 
winter  day  they  went  for  Christmas  greens,  when 
he  had  begged  her  for  a  talisman,  and  his  low- 
spoken  reply,  "  I'll  be  whatever  you  want  me  to 
be,  Lloyd."  There  were  other  times,  too,  of  which 
she  could  not  speak.  The  night  of  the  tableaux 
was  the  last  one,  when  she  had  strolled  down  the 
moonlighted  paths  with  him  at  The  Beeches,  and 
he  had  insisted  that  it  was  the  "  glad  morrow  " 
by  his  calendar,  and  time  for  her  Sir  Feal  to  tell 
her  many  things,  especially  as  he  was  going  away 
for  the  rest  of  the  summer  on  a  long  yachting  trip, 
and  somebody  else  might  tell  her  the  same  things 
in  his  absence.  So  many  years  she  had  taken  his 
devotion  as  a  matter  of  course,  that  it  provoked 
her  beyond  measure  to  have  Bernice  insinuate  that 
she  had  angled  for  it. 

Lloyd  knew  girls  who  did  such  things;  who 
delighted  in  proving  that  they  had  a  superior  power 
of  attraction,  and  who  would  not  scruple  to  use  all 
sorts  of  mean  little  underhand  ways  to  lessen  a 
man's  admiration  for  some  other  girl,  and  appro- 
priate it  for  themselves.  She  had  even  heard  some 
of  the  girls  at  school  boast  of  such  things. 

"  For  pity's  sake,  Lloyd !  "  one  of  them  had  said, 
"  don't  look  at  me  that  way.  '  All's  fair  in  love  and 


262    THE  LITTLE   COLONEL:   MAID   OF  HONOR 

war,'  and  a  girl's  title  to  popularity  is  based  on  the 
number  of  scalp-locks  she  takes." 

Lloyd  had  despised  her  for  that  speech,  and  now 
to  have  Bernice  openly  say  that  she  was  capable  of 
such  an  action  was  more  than  she  could  endure 
calmly.  She  set  her  teeth  together  hard,  and 
gripped  the  little  fan  she  still  happened  to  be  carry- 
ing, as  if  it  were  some  live  thing  she  was  trying 
to  strangle. 

"  And  she  said,"  Mary  added,  slowly,  reluctant 
to  add  fuel  to  the  flame,  yet  unable  to  withstand 
the  impelling  force  of  Lloyd's  eyes,  which  de- 
manded the  whole  truth,  "  she  said  that  she  had 
been  sure  for  some  time  that  Mr.  Shelby  was  just 
on  the  verge  of  proposing  to  her,  and  that,  if  you 
succeeded  in  playing  the  same  game  with  him  that 
you  did  with  Malcolm,  she'd  get  even  with  you 
if  it  took  her  till  her  dying  day.  Then,  right  on 
top  of  that,  you  know,  she  heard  him  ask  if  you'd 
go  horseback  riding  with  him.  So  that's  why  she 
was  so  angry  she  wouldn't  bid  you  good  night." 

Lloyd's  clenched  hand  tightened  its  grasp  on 
the  fan  till  the  delicate  sticks  crunched  against  each 
other.  She  was  breathing  so  hard  that  the  little 
arrow  on  her  dress  rose  and  fell  rapidly.  The 
silence  was  so  intense  that  Mary  was  frightened. 


THE  END   OF  THE  HOUSE -PARTY          263 

She  did  not  know  what  kind  of  an  outburst  to 
expect.  All  of  a  sudden,  taking  the  fan  in  both 
hands,  Lloyd  snapped  it  in  two,  and  then  breaking 
the  pieces  into  a  hundred  splinters,  threw  them 
across  the  room  into  the  open  fireplace.  She  stood 
with  her  back  to  the  girls  a  moment,  then,  to  Mary's 
unspeakable  astonishment,  forced  herself  to  speak 
as  calmly  as  if  nothing  had  happened,  asking  Joyce 
some  commonplace  question  about  her  packing. 
There  was  a  book  she  wanted  her  to  slip  into  her 
trunk  to  read  at  the  seashore.  She  was  afraid  it 
would  be  forgotten  if  left  till  next  day,  so  she  went 
to  her  room  to  get  it. 

As  the  door  closed  behind  her,  Mary  turned  to 
Joyce  in  amazement.  "  I  don't  see  how  it  was 
possible  for  her  to  get  over  her  temper  so  quickly," 
she  exclaimed.  "  The  change  almost  took  my 
breath." 

"  She  isn't  over  it,"  answered  Joyce.  "  She 
simply  got  it  under  control,  and  it  will  smoulder 
a  long  time  before  it's  finally  burnt  out.  She's 
dreadfully  hurt,  for  she  and  Bernice  have  been 
friends  so  long  that  she  is  really  fond  of  her. 
Nothing  hurts  like  being  misunderstood  and  mis- 
construed in  that  way.  It  is  the  last  thing  in  the 
world  that  Lloyd  would  do  —  suspect  a  friend  of 


264    THE  LITTLE   COLONEL:   MAID   OF  HONOR 

mean  motives.  From  what  I've  seen  of  Bernice, 
she  is  an  uncomfortable  sort  of  a  friend  to  have; 
one  of  the  sensitive,  suspicious  kind  that's  always 
going  around  with  her  feelings  stuck  out  for  some- 
body to  tread  on.  She's  always  looking  for  slights, 
and  when  she  doesn't  get  real  ones,  she  imagines 
them,  which  is  just  as  bad." 

If  Lloyd's  anger  burned  next  morning,  there  was 
no  trace  of  it  either  in  face  or  manner,  and  she 
made  that  last  day  one  long  to  be  remembered  by 
her  departing  guests. 

"  How  lonesome  it's  going  to  be  aftah  you  all 
leave,"  she  said  to  Joyce.  "  The  rest  of  the  sum- 
mah  will  be  a  stupid  anticlimax.  The  house-pahty 
and  the  wedding  should  have  come  at  the  last  end 
of  vacation  instead  of  the  first,  then  we  would  have 
had  something  to  look  forward  to  all  summah, 
and  could  have  plunged  into  school  directly  aftah 
it." 

"  This  July  and  August  will  be  the  quietest  we 
have  ever  known  at  The  Locusts,"  chimed  in  Betty. 
"  Allison  and  Kitty  leave  to-night  with  you  all, 
Malcolm  and  Keith  are  already  gone,  and  Rob  will 
be  here  only  a  few  days  longer.  That's  the  last 
straw,  to  have  Rob  go." 

"What's  that  about  yours  truly?"  asked  Rob, 


THE  END   OF  THE  HOUSE -PARTY          26$ 

coming  out  of  the  house  and  beginning  to  fan  him- 
self with  his  hat  as  he  dropped  down  on  the  porch 
step. 

"  I  was  just  saying  that  we  shall  miss  you  so 
much  this  summer.  That  you're  always  our 
stand-by.  It's  Rob  who  gets  up  the  rides  and 
picnics,  and  comes  over  and  stirs  us  out  of  our 
laziness  by  making  us  go  fishing  and  walking  and 
tennis-playing.  I'm  afraid  we'll  simply  go  into 
our  shells  and  stay  there  after  you  go." 

"  Ah,  ha !  You  do  me  proud,"  he  answered,  with 
a  mocking  sweep  of  his  hat.  "  Tis  sweet  to  be 
valued  at  one's  true  worth.  Don't  think  for  a 
moment  that  I  would  leave  you  to  pine  on  the  stem 
if  I  could  have  my  own  way.  But  I'm  my  mother's 
angel  baby-boy.  She  and  daddy  think  that  grand- 
father's health  demands  a  change  of  air,  and  they 
are  loath  to  leave  me  behind.  So,  unwilling  to 
deprive  them  of  the  apple  of  their  several  eyes,  I 
have  generously  consented  to  accompany  them. 
But  you  needn't  pine  for  company,"  he  added,  with 
a  mischievous  glance  at  Lloyd.  "  Alex  Shelby 
expects  to  spend  most  of  the  summer  with  the  old 
doctor,  and  he'll  be  a  brother  to  you  all,  if  you'll 
allow  it." 

Lloyd  made  no  answer,  so  he  proceeded  to  make 


266    THE  LITTLE   COLONEL:  MAID   OF  HONOR 

several  more  teasing  remarks  about  Alex,  not  know- 
ing what  had  taken  place  before.  He  even  ven- 
tured to  repeat  the  warning  about  her  keeping 
within  her  own  bailiwick,  as  Bernice's  friendship 
was  not  the  kind  that  could  stand  much  strain. 

To  his  surprise  Lloyd  made  no  answer,  but,  set- 
ting her  lips  together  angrily,  rose  and  went  into 
the  house,  her  head  high  and  her  cheeks  flushed. 

"  Whew ! "  he  exclaimed,  with  a  soft  whistle. 
"  What  hornet's  nest  have  I  stirred  up  now?  " 

Joyce  and  Betty  exchanged  glances,  each  waiting 
for  the  other  to  make  the  explanation.  Then  Joyce 
asked :  "  Didn't  you  see  the  way  Bernice  snubbed 
her  last  night  at  the  gate,  when  we  left  The 
Beeches?" 

"  Nary  a  snub  did  I  see.  It  must  have  happened 
when  I  was  groping  around  in  the  path  for  some- 
thing that  I  had  flipped  out  of  my  pocket  with  my 
handkerchief.  It  rang  on  the  ground  like  a  piece 
of  money,  and  I  feared  me  I  had  lost  one  of  me 
ducats.  What  did  she  do?" 

"  I  can't  tell  you  now,"  said  Joyce,  hurriedly, 
lowering  her  voice.  "  Here  come  Phil  and  Doc- 
tor Bradford." 

"  No  matter,"  he  answered,  airily.  "  I  have  no 
curiosity  whatsoever.  It's  a  trait  of  character  en- 


THE  END    OF  THE  HOUSE -PARTY  26/ 

tirely  lacking  in  my  make-up."  Then  he  motioned 
toward  Mary,  who  was  sitting  in  a  hammock,  cut- 
ting the  pages  of  a  new  magazine.  "  Does  she 
know  ?  " 

Joyce  nodded,  and  feeling  that  they  meant  her, 
Mary  looked  up  inquiringly.  Rob  beckoned  to  her 
ingratiatingly. 

"  Come  into  the  garden,  Maud,"  he  said  in  a  low 
tone.  "  I  would  have  speech  with  thee." 

Laughing  at  his  foolishness,  but  in  a  flutter  of 
pleasure,  Mary  sprang  up  to  follow  him  to  the 
rustic  seat  midway  down  the  avenue.  As  Joyce's 
parting  glance  had  not  forbidden  it,  she  was  soon 
answering  his  questions  to  the  best  of  her  abil- 
ity. 

"  You  see,"  he  explained,  "  it's  not  out  of  curi- 
osity that  I  ask  all  this.  It's  simply  as  a  means  of 
precaution.  I  can't  keep  myself  out  of  hot  water 
unless  I  know  how  the  land  lies." 

That  last  day  of  the  house-party  seemed  the 
shortest  of  all.  Betty  and  Miles  Bradford  strolled 
over  to  Tanglewood  and  sat  for  more  than  an  hour 
on  the  shady  stile  leading  into  the  churchyard. 
Lloyd  and  Phil  went  for  a  last  horseback  ride,  and 
Mary,  watching  them  canter  off  together  down  the 
avenue,  wondered  curiously  if  he  would  have  any- 


268    THE  LITTLE    COLONEL  :   MAID    OF  HONOR 

thing  more  to  say  about  the  bit  of  turquoise  and 
all  it  stood  for. 

As  she  followed  Joyce  up-stairs  to  help  her  pack 
her  trunk,  a  little  wave  of  homesickness  swept  over 
her.  Not  that  she  wanted  to  go  back  to  the  Wig- 
wam, but  to  have  Joyce  go  away  without  her  was 
like  parting  with  the  last  anchor  which  held  her 
to  her  family.  It  gave  her  a  lonely  set-adrift  feel- 
ing to  be  left  behind.  She  took  her  sister's  parting 
injunctions  and  advice  with  a  meekness  that  verged 
so  nearly  on  tears  that  Joyce  hastened  to  change 
the  subject. 

"Think  of  all  the  things  I'll  have  to  tell  you 
about  when  I  get  back  from  the  seashore.  Only 
two  short  months,  —  just  eight  little  weeks,  —  but 
I'm  going  to  crowd  them  so  full  of  glorious  hard 
work  that  I'll  accomplish  wonders.  There'll  be  no 
end  of  good  times,  too :  clambakes  and  fishing  and 
bathing  to  fill  up  the  chinks  in  the  days,  and  the 
story-telling  in  the  evenings  around  the  driftwood 
fires.  It  will  be  over  before  we  know  it,  and  I'll 
be  back  here  ready  to  take  you  home  before  you 
have  time  to  really  miss  me." 

Cheered  by  Joyce's  view  of  the  subject,  Mary 
turned  her  back  a  moment  till  she  had  winked  away 
the  tears  that  had  begun  to  gather,  then  straight- 


THE  END   OF  THE  HOUSE -PARTY  269 

way  started  out  to  make  the  most  of  the  eight 
little  weeks  left  to  her  at  The  Locusts.  When  she 
went  with  the  others  to  the  station  "  to  give  the 
house-party  on  wheels  a  grand  send-off,"  as  Kitty 
expressed  it,  her  bright  little  face  was  so  happy 
that  it  brought  a  smiling  response  from  every 
departing  guest. 

"  Good-by,  Miss  Mary,"  Miles  Bradford  said, 
cordially,  coming  up  to  her  in  the  waiting-room. 
"  The  Pilgrim  Father  has  much  to  thank  you  for. 
You  have  helped  him  to  store  up  some  very  pleas- 
ant memories  of  this  happy  Valley." 

"  Good-by,  little  Vicar,"  said  Phil  next,  seizing 
both  her  hands.  "  Think  of  the  Best  Man  whenever 
you  look  at  the  Philip  on  your  shilling,  and  think 
of  his  parting  words.  Do  profit  by  that  dreadful 
dream,  and  don't  take  any  rash  steps  that  would 
lead  to  another  cat-fight.  We'll  take  care  of  your 
sister,"  he  added,  as  Mary  turned  to  Joyce  and 
threw  her  arms  around  her  neck  for  one  last 
kiss. 

"  Lieutenant  Logan  will  watch  out  for  her  as 
far  as  he  goes,  and  I'll  keep  my  eagle  eye  on  her 
the  rest  of  the  way." 

"Who'll  keep  an  eagle  eye  on  you?"  retorted 
Mary,  following  them  out  to  the  platform. 


2/O     THE  LITTLE   COLONEL:  MAID   OF  HONOR 

He  made  a  laughing  grimace  over  his  shoulder, 
as  he  turned  to  help  Joyce  up  the  steps. 

"  What  a  good  time  they  are  going  to  have  to- 
gether," thought  Mary,  watching  the  group  as  they 
stood  on  the  rear  platform  of  the  last  car,  waving 
good-by.  "  And  what  a  different  parting  this  is 
from  that  other  one  on  the  desert  when  he  went 
away  with  such  a  sorry  look  in  his  eyes."  He  was 
facing  the  future  eagerly  this  time,  strong  in  hope 
and  purpose,  and  she  answered  the  last  wave  of 
his  hat  with  a  flap  of  her  handkerchief,  which 
seemed  to  carry  with  it  all  the  loyal  good  wishes 
that  shone  in  her  beaming  little  face. 

Miles  Bradford  had  made  a  hurried  trip  to  the 
city  that  morning,  to  attend  to  a  matter  of  business, 
going  in  on  the  ten  o'clock  trolley  and  coming  back 
in  time  for  lunch.  On  his  return,  he  laid  a  pack- 
age in  Mary's  lap,  and  handed  one  to  each  of  the 
other  girls.  Joyce's  was  a  pile  of  new  July  maga- 
zines to  read  on  the  train.  Lloyd's  was  a  copy  of 
"  Abdallah,  or  the  Four-leaved  Shamrock,"  which 
had  led -to  so  much  discussion  the  morning  of  the 
wedding,  when  they  hunted  clovers  for  the  dream- 
cake  boxes. 

Mary's  eyes  grew  round  with  surprise  and  delight 
when  she  opened  her  package  and  found  inside  the 


THE  END    OF   THE  HOUSE- PARTY  2? I 

white  paper  and  gilt  cord  a  big  box  of  Huyler's 
candies.  "  With  the  compliments  of  the  Pilgrim 
Father,"  was  pencilled  on  the  engraved  card  stuck 
under  the  string. 

There  was  layer  after  layer  of  chocolate  creams 
and  caramels,  marshmallows  and  candied  violets, 
burnt  almonds  and  nougat,  besides  a  score  of  other 
things — 'Specimens  of  the  confectioner's  art  for 
which  she  knew  no  name.  She  had  seen  the  outside 
of  such  boxes  in  the  show-cases  in  Phoenix,  but 
never  before  had  such  a  tempting  display  met  her 
eyes  as  these  delicious  sweets  in  their  trimmings 
of  lace  paper  and  tinfoil  and  ribbons,  crowned  by 
a  pair  of  little  gilt  tongs,  with  which  one  might 
make  dainty  choice. 

Betty's  gift  was  not  so  sightly.  It  looked  like 
an  old  dried  sponge,  for  it  was  only  a  ball  of  matted 
roots.  But  she  held  it  up  with  an  exclamation  of 
pleasure.  "  Oh,  it  is  one  of  those  fern-balls  we 
were  talking  about  this  morning!  I've  been  want- 
ing one  all  year.  You  see,"  she  explained  to  Mary, 
when  she  had  finished  thanking  Doctor  Bradford, 
"you  hang  it  up  in  a  window  and  keep  it  wet, 
and  it  turns  into  a  perfect  little  hanging  garden, 
so  fine  and  green  and  feathery  it's  fit  for  fairy- 
land. It  will  grow  as  long  as  you  remember  to 


2/2    THE  LITTLE    COLONEL :  MAID    OF  HONOR 

water  it.  Gay  Melville  had  one  last  year  in  her 
window  at  school,  and  I  envied  her  every  time  I 
saw  it." 

"  Now  what  does  that  make  me  think  of  ?  "  said 
Mary,  screwing  up  her  forehead  into  a  network  of 
wrinkles  and  squinting  her  eyes  half-shut  in  her 
effort  to  remember.  "  Oh,  I  know!  It's  something 
I  read  in  a  paper  a  few  days  ago.  It's  in  China 
or  Japan,  I  don't  know  which,  but  in  one  of  those 
heathen  countries.  When  a  young  man  wants  to 
find  out  if  a  girl  really  likes  him,  he  goes  to  her 
house  early  in  the  dawn,  and  leaves  a  growing 
plant  on  the  balcony  for  her.  If  she  spurns  him, 
she  tears  it  up  by  the  roots  and  throws  it  out  in 
the  street  to  wither,  and  I  believe  breaks  the  pot; 
but  if  she  likes  him,  she  takes  it  in  and  keeps  it 
green,  to  show  that  he  lives  in  her  memory." 

A  shout  of  laughter  from  Rob  and  Phil  had 
made  her  turn  to  stare  at  them  uneasily.  "  What 
are  you  laughing  at  ?  "  she  asked,  innocently.  "  I 
did  read  it.  I  can  show  you  the  paper  it  is  in,  and 
I  thought  it  was  a  right  bright  way  for  a  person 
to  find  out  what  he  wanted  to  know  without  ask- 
ing." 

It  was  very  evident  that  she  hadn't  the  remotest 
idea  she  had  said  anything  personal,  and  her  igno- 


THE   END   OF   THE  HOUSE -PARTY  2/3 

ranee  of  the  cause  of  their  mirth  made  her  speecli 
all  the  funnier.  Doctor  Bradford  laughed,  too,  as 
he  said  with  a  formal  bow :  "I  hope  you  will  take 
the  suggestion  to  heart,  Miss  Betty,  and  let  my 
memory  and  the  fern-ball  grow  green  together." 

Then,  Mary,  realizing  what  she  had  said  when 
it  was  too  late  to  unsay  it,  clapped  her  hands  over 
her  mouth  and  groaned.  Apologies  could  only 
make  the  matter  worse,  so  she  tried  to  hide  her 
confusion  by  passing  around  the  box  of  candy.  It 
passed  around  so  many  times  during  the  course 
of  the  afternoon  that  the  box  was  almost  empty 
by  train-time.  Mary  returned  to  it  with  unabated 
interest  after  the  guests  were  gone.  It  was  the 
first  box  of  candy  she  had  ever  owned,  and  she 
wondered  if  she  would  ever  have  another. 

"  I  believe  I'll  save  it  for  a  keepsake  box,"  she 
thought,  gathering  it  up  in  her  arms  to  follow  Betty 
up-stairs.  Rob  had  come  back  with  them  from 
the  station,  and,  taking  the  story  of  "  Abdallah,"  he 
and  Lloyd  had  gone  to  the  library  to  read  it  to- 
gether. 

Betty  was  going  to  her  room  to  put  the  fern-ball 
to  soak,  according  to  directions.  Feeling  just  a 
trifle  lonely  since  her  parting  from  Joyce,  Mary 
wandered  off  to  the  room  that  seemed  to  miss  her, 


2/4    THE  LITTLE   COLONEL :   MAID    OF  HONOR 

too,  now  that  all  her  personal  belongings  had  dis- 
appeared from  wardrobe  and  dressing-table.  But 
she  was  soon  absorbed  in  arranging  her  keepsake 
box.  Emptying  the  few  remaining  scraps  of  candy 
into  a  paper  bag,  she  smoothed  out  the  lace  paper, 
the  ribbons,  and  the  tinfoil  to  save  to  show  to  Hazel 
Lee.  These  she  put  in  her  trunk,  but  the  gilt  tongs 
seemed  worthy  of  a  place  in  the  box.  The  Pilgrim 
Father's  card  was  dropped  in  beside  it,  then  the 
heart-shaped  dream-cake  box,  holding  one  of  the 
white  icing  roses  that  had  ornamented  the  bride's 
cake.  Last  and  most  precious  was  the  silver  shil- 
ling, which  she  polished  carefully  with  her  chamois- 
skin  pen-wiper  before  putting  away. 

"  I  don't  need  to  look  at  you  to  make  me  think 
of  the  Best  Man,"  she  said  to  the  Philip  on  the  coin. 
"  There's  more  things  than  you  that  remind  me 
of  him.  I  certainly  would  like  to  know  what  sort 
of  a  fate  you  are  going  to  bring  me.  There's  about 
as  much  chance  of  my  being  an  heiress  as  there  is 
of  that  nightmare  coming  true." 


CHAPTER   XVI. 

THE  GOLDEN   LEAF   OF   HONOR 

IT  was  a  compliment  that  changed  the  entire 
course  of  Mary's  summer;  a  compliment  which 
Betty  gleefully  repeated  to  her,  imitating  the  old 
Colonel's  very  tone,  as  he  gesticulated  emphatically 
to  Mr.  Sherman : 

"  I  tell  you,  Jack,  she's  the  most  remarkable  child 
of  her  age  I  ever  met.  It  is  wonderful  the  informa- 
tion she  has  managed  to  pick  up  in  that  God-for- 
saken desert  country.  I  say  to  you,  sir,  she  can 
tell  you  as  much  now  about  scientific  bee-culture 
as  any  naturalist  you  ever  knew.  Actually  quoted 
Huber  to  me  the  other  day,  and  Maeterlinck's  '  Life 
of  the  Bee ! '  Think  of  a  fourteen-year-old  girl 
quoting  Maeterlinck !  With  the  proper  direction  in 
her  reading,  she  need  never  see  the  inside  of  a  col- 
lege, for  her  gift  of  observation  amounts  to  a  talent, 
and  she  has  it  in  her  to  make  herself  not  only  an 
honor  to  her  sex,  but  one  of  the  most  interesting 
women  of  her  generation." 
275 


2/6    THE  LITTLE   COLONEL:  MAID   OF  HONOR 

Mary  looked  up  in  blank  amazement  when  Betty 
danced  into  the  library,  hat  in  hand,  and  repeated 
what  the  old  Colonel  had  just  said  in  her  hearing. 
Compliments  were  rare  in  Mary's  experience,  and 
this  one,  coming  from  the  scholarly  old  gentleman 
of  whom  she  stood  in  awe,  agitated  her  so  much 
that  three  successive  times  she  ran  her  needle  into 
her  finger,  instead  of  through  the  bead  she  was 
trying  to  impale  on  its  point.  The  last  time  it 
pricked  so  sharply  that  she  gave  a  nervous  jerk 
and  upset  the  entire  box  of  beads  on  the  floor. 

"  See  how  stuck-up  that  made  me,"  she  said,  with 
an  embarrassed  laugh,  shaking  a  tiny  drop  of  blood 
from  her  ringer  before  dropping  on  her  knees  to 
grope  for  the  beads,  which  were  rolling  all  over 
the  polished  floor.  "  It's  so  seldom  I  hear  a  com- 
pliment that  I  haven't  learned  to  take  them  grace- 
fully." 

"  Godmother  is  waiting  in  the  carriage  for  me," 
said  Betty,  pinning  on  her  hat  as  she  spoke,  "  or 
I'd  help  you  pick  them  up.  I  just  hurried  in  to  tell 
you  while  it  was  fresh  in  my  mind,  and  I  could 
remember  the  exact  words.  I  had  no  idea  it  would 
upset  you  so,"  she  added,  mischievously. 

Left  to  herself,  Mary  soon  gathered  the  beads 
back  into  the  box  and  resumed  her  task.  She  was 


THE  GOLDEN  LEAF  OF  HONOR      2/7 

making  a  pair  of  moccasins  for  Girlie  Dinsmore's 
doll.  Her  conscience  still  troubled  her  for  playing 
stork,  and  she  had  resolved  to  spend  some  of  her 
abundant  leisure  in  making  amends  in  this  way. 
But  only  her  fingers  took  up  the  same  work  that 
had  occupied  her  before  Betty's  interruption.  Her 
thoughts  started  off  in  an  entirely  different  direc- 
tion. 

A  most  romantic  little  day-dream  had  been  keep- 
ing pace  with  her  bead-stringing.  A  day-dream 
through  which  walked  a  prince  with  eyes  like  Rob's 
and  a  voice  like  Phil's,  and  the  wealth  of  a  Crresus 
in  his  pockets.  And  he  wrote  sonnets  to  her  and 
called  her  his  ladye  fair,  and  gave  her  not  only  one 
turquoise,  but  a  bracelet-ful. 

Now  every  vestige  of  sentiment  was  gone,  and 
she  was  sitting  up  straight  and  eager,  repeating 
the  old  Colonel's  words.  They  were  making  her 
unspeakably  happy.  "  She  has  it  in  her  to  make 
herself  not  only  an  honor  to  her  sex,  but  one  of 
the  most  interesting  women  of  her  generation." 
"  To  make  herself  an  honor,"  —  why,  that  would 
be  winning  the  third  leaf  of  the  magic  shamrock  — 
the  golden  one!  Betty  had  said  that  she  believed 
that  every  one  who  earned  those  first  three  leaves 
was  sure  to  find  the  fourth  one  waiting  somewhere 


2?8    THE  LITTLE   COLONEL  :   MAID    OF  HONOR 

in  the  world.  It  wouldn't  make  any  difference  then 
whether  she  was  an  old  maid  or  not.  She  need  not 
be  dependent  on  any  prince  to  bring  her  the  dia- 
mond leaf,  and  that  was  a  good  thing,  for  down 
in  her  heart  she  had  her  doubts  about  one  ever 
coming  to  her.  She  loved  to  make  up  foolish  little 
day-dreams  about  them,  but  it  would  be  too  late 
for  him  to  come  when  she  was  a  grandmother,  and 
she  wouldn't  be  beautiful  till  then,  so  she  really 
had  no  reason  to  expect  one.  It  would  be  much 
safer  for  her  to  depend  on  herself,  and  earn  the 
first  three  in  plain,  practical  ways. 

"  To  make  herself  an  honor."  The  words  re- 
peated themselves  again  and  again,  as  she  rapidly 
outlined  an  arrow-head  on  the  tiny  moccasin  in 
amber  and  blue.  Suddenly  she  threw  down  the 
needle  and  the  bit  of  kid  and  sprang  to  her  feet. 
"I'll  do  it!"  she  said  aloud. 

As  she  took  a  step  forward,  all  a-tingle  with  a 
new  ambition  and  a  firm  resolve,  she  came  face  to 
face  with  her  reflection  in  one  of  the  polished  glass 
doors  of  the  bookcase.  The  intent  eagerness  of  its 
gaze  seemed  to  challenge  her.  She  lifted  her  head 
as  if  the  victory  were  already  won,  and  confronted 
the  reflection  squarely.  "  I'll  do  it !  "  she  said,  sol- 


THE    GOLDEN  LEAF  OF  HONOR  2/9 

emnly  to  the  resolute  eyes  in  the  glass  door.  "  You 
see  if  I  don't !  " 

Only  that  morning  she  had  given  a  complacent 
glance  to  the  long  shelves  of  fiction,  with  which  she 
expected  to  while  away  the  rest  of  the  summer. 
There  would  be  other  pleasant  things,  she  knew, 
drives  with  Mrs.  Sherman,  long  tramps  with  the 
girls,  and  many  good  times  with  Elise  Walton; 
but  there  would  still  be  left  hours  and  hours  for 
her  to  spend  in  the  library,  going  from  one  to  an- 
other of  the  famous  novelists,  like  a  bee  in  a  flower 
garden. 

"  With  the  proper  direction  in  her  reading,"  the 
old  Colonel  had  said,  and  Mary  knew  without  tell- 
ing that  she  would  not  find  the  proper  beginning 
among  the  books  of  fiction.  Instinctively  she  felt 
she  must  turn  to  the  volumes  telling  of  real  people 
and  real  achievements.  Biographies,  journals,  lives, 
and  letters  of  women  who  had  been,  as  the  Colonel 
said,  an  honor  to  their  sex  and  the  most  interesting 
of  their  generation.  She  wished  that  she  dared  ask 
him  to  choose  the  first  book  for  her,  but  she  hadn't 
the  courage  to  venture  that  far.  So  she  chose  at 
random. 

"  Lives  of  Famous  Women  "  was  the  volume  that 
happened  to  attract  her  first,  a  collection  of  short 


28O    THE  LITTLE   COLONEL  :   MAID  OF  HONOR 

sketches.  She  took  it  from  the  shelf  and  glanced 
through  it,  scanning  a  page  here  and  there,  for  she 
was  a  rapid  reader.  Then,  rinding  that  it  bade  fair 
to  be  entertaining,  down  she  dropped  on  the  rug, 
and  began  at  the  preface.  Lunch  stopped  her  for 
awhile,  but,  thoroughly  interested,  she  carried  the 
book  up  to  her  room  and  immediately  began  to  read 
again. 

When  she  went  down  to  the  porch  before  din- 
ner that  evening,  she  did  not  say  to  herself  in  so 
many  words  that  maybe  the  Colonel  would  notice 
what  she  was  reading,  but  it  was  with  the  hope 
that  he  would  that  she  carried  the  book  with  her. 
He  did  notice,  and  commended  her  for  it,  but  threw 
her  into  a  flutter  of  confusion  by  asking  her  what 
similarity  she  had  noticed  in  the  lives  of  those 
women  she  was  reading  about. 

It  mortified  her  to  be  obliged  to  confess  that  she 
had  not  discovered  any,  and  she  thought,  as  she 
nervously  fingered  the  pages  and  looked  down  at 
her  toes,  "  That's  what  I  got  for  trying  to  appear 
smarter  than  I  really  am." 

"  This  is  what  I  meant,"  he  began,  in  his  didactic 
way.  "  Each  of  them  made  a  specialty  of  some  one 
thing,  and  devoted  all  her  energies  to  accomplishing 
that  purpose,  whether  it  was  the  establishing  of  a 


THE   GOLDEN  LEAF  OF  HONOR  28 1 

salon,  the  discovery  of  a  star,  or  the  founding  of  a 
college.  They  hit  the  bull's-eye,  because  they  aimed 
at  no  other  spot  on  the  target.  I  have  no  patience 
with  this  modern  way  of  a  girl's  taking  up  a  dozen 
fads  at  a  time.  It  makes  her  a  jack-at-all-trades 
and  a  master  of  none." 

The  Colonel  was  growing  eloquent  on  one  of  his 
favorite  topics  now,  and  presently  Mary  found  him 
giving  her  the  very  guidance  she  had  longed  for. 
He  was  helping  her  to  a  choice.  By  the  time  din- 
ner was  announced,  he  had  awakened  two  ambitions 
within  her,  although  he  was  not  conscious  of  the 
fact  himself.  One  was  to  study  the  strange  insect 
life  of  the  desert,  in  which  she  was  already  deeply 
interested,  to  unlock  its  treasures,  unearth  its  se- 
crets, and  add  to  the  knowledge  the  world  had 
already  amassed,  until  she  should  become  a  recog- 
nized authority  on  the  subject.  The  other  was  to 
prove  by  her  own  achievements  the  truth  of  some- 
thing which  the  Colonel  quoted  from  Emerson.  It 
flattered  her  that  he  should  quote  Emerson  to  her, 
a  mere  child,  as  if  she  were  one  of  his  peers,  and 
she  wished  that  Joyce  could  have  been  there  to 
hear  it. 

This  was  the  sentence:  "If  a  man  can  write  a 
better  book,  preach  a  better  sermon,  or  make  a  bet' 


282    THE  LITTLE   COLONEL  :  MAID   OF  HONOR 

ter  mouse-trap  than  his  neighbor,  though  he  build 
his  house  in  the  woods,  the  world  will  make  a 
beaten  track  to  his  door." 

Mary  did  not  yet  know  whether  the  desert  would 
yield  her  the  material  for  a  book  or  a  mouse-trap, 
but  she  determined  that  no  matter  what  she  under- 
took, she  would  force  the  world  to  "  make  a  beaten 
track  to  her  door."  The  first  step  was  to  find  out 
how  much  had  already  been  discovered  by  the  great 
naturalists  who  had  gone  before  her,  in  order  that 
she  might  take  a  step  beyond  them.  With  that  in 
view,  she  plunged  into  the  course  of  study  that  the 
Colonel  outlined  for  her  with  the  same  energy  and 
dogged  determination  which  made  her  a  successful 
killer  of  snakes. 

Lloyd  came  upon  her  the  third  morning  after 
the  breaking  up  of  the  house-party,  sitting  in  the 
middle  of  the  library  floor,  surrounded  by  encyclo- 
paedias and  natural  histories.  She  was  verifying 
in  the  books  all  that  she  had  learned  by  herself  in 
the  desert  of  the  habits  of  trap-door  spiders,  and 
she  was  so  absorbed  in  her  task  that  she  did  not 
look  up. 

Lloyd  slipped  out  of  the  room  without  disturb- 
ing her,  wishing  she  could  plunge  into  some  study 
as  absorbing,  —  something  that  would  take  her 


THE  GOLDEN  LEAF  OF  HONOR      283 

mind  from  the  thoughts  which  had  nagged  her  like 
a  persistent  mosquito  for  the  last  few  days.  She 
knew  that  she  had  done  nothing  to  give  Bernice 
just  cause  for  taking  offence,  and  it  hurt  her  to 
be  misunderstood. 

"If  it  were  anything  else,"  she  mused,  as  she 
strolled  up  and  down  under  the  locusts,  "  I  could 
go  to  her  and  explain.  But  explanation  is  impossi- 
ble in  a  case  of  this  kind.  It  would  sound  too  con- 
ceited for  anything  for  me  to  tell  her  what  I  know 
to  be  the  truth  about  Malcolm's  attentions  to  her, 
and  as  for  the  othah  —  "  she  shrugged  her  shoul- 
ders. "  It  would  be  hopeless  to  try  that.  Oh,  if 
I  could  only  talk  it  ovah  with  mothah  or  Papa 
Jack !  "  she  sighed. 

But  they  had  gone  away  immediately  after  the 
house-party,  for  a  week's  outing  in  the  Tennessee 
mountains.  She  could  have  gone  to  her  grand- 
father for  advice  on  most  questions,  but  this  was 
too  intangible  for  her  to  explain  to  him.  Betty, 
too,  was  as  much  puzzled  as  herself. 

"  I  declare,"  she  said,  when  appealed  to,  "  I  don't 
know  what  to  tell  you,  Lloyd.  It's  going  to  be 
such  a  dull  summer  with  everybody  gone,  and  Alex 
Shelby  is  so  nice  in  every  way,  it  does  seem  unfair 
for  you  to  have  to  put  such  a  desirable  companion- 


284    THE  LITTLE    COLONEL:   MAID   OF  HONOR 

ship  from  you  just  on  account  of  another  girl's 
jealousy.  On  the  other  hand,  Bernice  is  an  old 
playmate,  and  you  can't  very  well  ignore  the  claims 
of  such  a  long-time  friendship.  She  has  misjudged 
and  misrepresented  you,  and  the  opportunity  is 
yours,  if  you  will  take  it,  to  show  her  how  mistaken 
she  is  in  your  character." 

Now,  as  Lloyd  reached  the  end  of  the  avenue 
and  stopped  in  front  of  the  gate,  her  face  bright- 
ened. Katie  Mallard  was  hurrying  down  the  rail- 
road track,  waving  her  parasol  to  attract  her  atten- 
tion. 

"  I  can't  come  in,"  she  called,  as  she  came  within 
speaking  distance.  "  I'm  out  delivering  the  most 
informal  of  invitations  to  the  most  informal  of 
garden-parties  to-morrow  afternoon.  I  want  you 
and  Betty  to  help  receive." 

"  Who  else  is  going  to  help  ?  "  asked  Lloyd,  when 
she  had  cordially  accepted  the  invitation  for  herself 
and  Betty. 

"  Nobody.  I  had  intended  to  have  Bernice 
Howe,  and  went  up  there  awhile  ago  to  ask  her. 
She  said  maybe  she'd  come,  but  she  certainly 
wouldn't  help  receive  if  you  were  going  to.  She's 
dreadfully  down  on  you,  Lloyd." 

"  Yes,  I  know  it.    I've  heard  some  of  the  catty 


THE   GOLDEN  LEAF  OF  HONOR  285 

things  she  said  about  my  breaking  up  the  friend- 
ship between  her  and  Malcolm.  It's  simply  absurd, 
and  it  makes  me  so  boiling  mad  every  time  I  think 
about  it  that  I  feel  like  a  smouldering  volcano. 
There  aren't  any  words  strong  enough  to  relieve 
my  mind.  I'd  like  to  thundah  and  lighten  at  her." 

"  Yes,  it  is  absurd,"  agreed  Katie.  "  I  told  her  so 
too.  I  told  her  that  Malcolm  always  had  thought 
more  of  you  than  any  girl  in  the  Valley,  and  always 
would.  And  she  said,  well,  you  had  no  '  auld  lang 
syne '  claim  on  Alex,  and  that  if  he  once  got  started 
to  going  to  Locust  you'd  soon  have  him  under  your 
thumb  as  you  do  every  one  else,  and  that  would  be 
the  end  of  the  affair  for  her." 

"  As  if  I  were  an  old  spidah,  weaving  webs  for 
everybody  that  conies  along!"  cried  Lloyd,  indig- 
nantly. "  She's  no  right  to  talk  that  way." 

"  I  think  it's  because  she  really  cares  so  much, 
and  not  that  she  does  it  to  be  spiteful,"  said  Katie. 
"  She  hasn't  a  bit  of  pride  about  hiding  her  feel- 
ing for  him.  She  openly  cried  about  it  while  she 
was  talking  to  me." 

"  What  do  you  think  I  ought  to  do  ? "  asked 
Lloyd,  with  a  troubled  face.  "  I  like  Mistah  Shelby 
evah  so  much,  and  I'd  like  to  be  nice  to  him  for  the 
old  doctah's  sake  if  for  no  othah  reason,  for  Fm 


286    THE  LITTLE   COLONEL :  MAID   OF  HONOR 

devoted  to  him.  And  I  really  would  enjoy  seeing 
him  often,  especially  now  when  everybody  else  is 
gone  or  going  for  the  rest  of  the  summah.  Besides, 
he'd  think  it  mighty  queah  for  me  to  write  to  him 
not  to  come  next  Thursday.  But  I'd  hate  to  really 
interfere  with  Bernice's  happiness,  if  it  has  grown 
to  be  such  a  serious  affair  with  her  that  she  can 
cry  about  it.  I'd  hate  to  have  her  going  through 
the  rest  of  her  life  thinking  that  I  had  deliberately 
wronged  her,  and  if  she's  breaking  her  heart  ovah 
it  "  —  she  stopped  abruptly. 

"  Oh,  I  don't  see  that  you  have  any  call  to  do  the 
grand  renouncing  act !  "  exclaimed  Katie.  "  Why 
should  you  cut  yourself  off  from  a  good  time  and 
a  good  friend  by  snubbing  him?  It  will  put  you 
in  a  very  unpleasant  light,  for  you  couldn't  explain 
without  making  Bernice  appear  a  perfect  ninny. 
And  if  you  don't  explain,  what  will  he  think  of 
you?  Let  me  tell  you,  it  is  more  than  she  would 
do  for  you  if  you  were  in  her  place.  Somehow, 
with  us  girls,  life  seems  like  a  game  of  '  Hold  fast 
all  I  give  you.'  What  falls  into  your  hands  is 
yours  by  right  of  the  game,  and  you've  no  call  to 
hand  it  over  to  the  next  girl  because  she  whimpers 
that  she  wants  to  be  '  it/  Don't  you  worry.  Go 
on  and  have  a  good  time." 


THE    GOLDEN  LEAF  OF  HONOR  287 

With  that  parting  advice  Katie  hurried  away, 
and  Lloyd  was  left  to  pace  up  and  down  the  avenue 
more  undecided  than  before.  It  was  late  in  the 
afternoon  of  the  next  day  when  she  finally  found 
the  answer  to  her  question.  She  had  been  wander- 
ing around  the  drawing-room,  glancing  into  a  book 
here,  rearranging  a  vase  of  flowers  there,  turning 
over  the  pile  of  music  on  the  piano,  striking  aimless 
chords  on  the  harp-strings. 

Presently  she  paused  in  front  of  the  mantel  to 
lift  the  lid  from  the  rose- jar  and  let  its  prisoned 
sweetness  escape  into  the  room.  As  she  did  so  she 
glanced  up  into  the  eyes  of  the  portrait  above  her. 
With  a  whimsical  smile  she  thought  of  the  times 
before  when  she  had  come  to  it  for  counsel,  and 
the  question  half- formed  itself  on  her  lips :  "  What 
would  you  do,  you  beautiful  Grandmother  Aman- 
this?" 

Instantly  there  came  into  her  mind  the  memory 
of  a  winter  day  when  she  had  stood  there  in  the 
firelight  before  it,  stirred  to  the  depths  by  the  music 
this  one  of  "  the  choir  invisible  "  had  made  of  her 
life,  by  her  purpose  to  "  ease  the  burden  of  the 
world  "  —  "  to  live  in  scorn  of  miserable  aims  that 
end  with  self." 

Now  like  an  audible  reply  to  her  question  the 


288    THE  LITTLE    COLONEL:   MAID   OF  HONOR 

eyes  of  the  portrait  seemed  to  repeat  that  last  sen- 
tence to  her :  "  To  live  in  scorn  of  miserable  aims 
that  end  with  self! " 

For  a  moment  she  stood  irresolute,  then  dropping 
the  lid  on  the  rose- jar  again,  she  crossed  over  into 
the  next  room  and  sat  down  beside  the  library  table. 
It  was  no  easy  task  to  write  the  note  she  had  decided 
to  send.  Five  different  times  she  got  half-way 
through,  tore  the  page  in  two  and  tossed  it  into  the 
waste-basket.  Each  attempt  seemed  so  stiff  and 
formal  that  she  was  disgusted  with  it.  Nearly  an 
hour  passed  in  the  effort.  She  could  not  write  the 
real  reason  for  breaking  her  engagement  for  the 
ride,  and  she  could  not  express  too  much  regret, 
or  he  would  make  other  occasions  she  would  have 
to  refuse,  if  she  followed  out  the  course  she  had 
decided  upon,  to  give  Bernice  no  further  occasion 
for  jealousy.  It  was  the  most  difficult  piece  of 
composition  she  had  ever  attempted,  and  she  was 
far  from  pleased  with  the  stiff  little  note  which  she 
finally  slipped  into  its  envelope. 

"  It  will  have  to  do;"  she  sighed,  wearily,  "  but 
I  know  he  will  think  I  am  snippy  and  rude,  and  I 
can't  beah  for  him  to  have  that  opinion  of  me." 

In  the  very  act  of  sealing  the  envelope  she  hesi- 
tated again  with  Katie's  words  repeating  themselves 


THE   GOLDEN  LEAF  OF  HONOR  289 

in  her  ears :  "  It's  more  than  she  would  do  for  you, 
if  you  were  in  her  place." 

While  she  hesitated  there  came  a  familiar  whistle 
from  somewhere  in  the  back  of  the  house.  She 
gave  the  old  call  in  answer,  and  the  next  moment 
Rob  came  through  the  dining-room  into  the  hall, 
and  paused  in  the  library  door. 

"  I've  made  my  farewells  to  the  rest  of  the  fam- 
ily," he  announced,  abruptly.  "  I  met  Betty  and 
Mary  down  in  the  orchard  as  I  cut  across  lots  from 
home.  Now  I've  got  about  five  minutes  to  devote 
to  the  last  sad  rites  with  you." 

"  Yes,  we're  going  on  the  next  train,"  he  an- 
swered, when  her  amazed  question  stopped  him. 
"  The  family  sprung  the  surprise  on  me  just  a  little 
while  ago.  It  seems  the  doctor  thought  grand- 
father ought  to  go  at  once,  so  they've  hurried  up  ar- 
rangements, and  we'll  be  off  in  a  few  hours,  two 
days  ahead  of  the  date  they  first  set." 

Startled  by  the  abruptness  of  his  announcement, 
Lloyd  almost  dropped  the  hot  sealing-wax  on  her 
fingers  instead  of  the  envelope.  His  haste  seemed 
to  communicate  itself  to  her,  for,  springing  up,  she 
stood  with  one  hand  pressing  her  little  signet  ring 
into  the  wax,  while  the  other  reached  for  the  stamp- 
box. 


2QO    THE  LITTLE    COLONEL:   MAID   OF  HONOR 

"  I'll  be  through  in  half  a  second,"  she  said. 
"  This  lettah  should  have  gone  off  yestahday.  If 
you  will  post  it  on  the  train  for  me  it  will  save  time 
and  get  there  soonah." 

"  All  right,"  he  answered.  "  Come  on  and  walk 
down  to  the  gate  with  me,  and  we'll  stop  at  the 
measuring-tree.  We  can't  let  the  old  custom  go 
by  when  we've  kept  it  up  so  many  years,  and  I 
won't  be  back  again  this  vacation." 

Swinging  the  letter  back  and  forth  to  make  sure 
that  the  ink  was  dry,  she  walked  along  beside  him. 
"  Oh,  I  wish  you  weren't  going  away !  "  she  ex- 
claimed, forlornly.  "  It's  going  to  be  dreadfully 
stupid  the  rest  of  the  summah." 

They  reached  the  measuring-tree,  and  taking  out 
his  knife  and  pocket-rule,  Rob  passed  his  fingers 
over  the  notches  which  stood  for  the  many  years 
they  had  measured  their  heights  against  the  old 
locust.  Then  he  held  out  the  rule  and  waited  for 
her  to  take  her  place  under  it,  with  her  back  against 
the  tree. 

"  What  a  long  way  you've  stretched  up  between 
six  and  seventeen,"  he  said.  "  This'll  be  about  the 
last  time  we'll  need  to  go  through  this  ceremony, 
for  I've  reached  my  top  notch,  and  probably  you 
have  too." 


THE  GOLDEN  LEAF  OF  HONOR      2<)I 

"  Wait !  "  she  exclaimed,  stooping  to  pick  some- 
thing out  of  the  grass  at  her  feet.  "  Heah's  anothah 
foah-leaved  clovah.  I  find  one  neahly  every  time 
I  come  down  this  side  of  the  avenue.  I'm  making 
a  collection  of  them.  When  I  get  enough,  maybe 
I'll  make  a  photograph-frame  of  them." 

"  Then  you  ought  to  put  your  own  picture  in  it, 
for  you're  certainly  the  luckiest  person  for  finding 
them  I  ever  heard  of.  I'm  going  to  carve  one  on 
the  tree,  here  by  this  last  notch  under  the  date.  It 
will  be  quite  neat  and  symbolical,  don't  you  think? 
A  sort  of  '  when  this  you  see  remember  me '  hiero- 
glyphic. It  will  remind  you  of  the  long  discussions 
we've  had  on  the  subject  since  we  read  '  Abdallah ' 
together." 

He  dug  away  in  silence  for  a  moment,  then  said, 
"  It's  queer  how  you  happened  to  find  that  just 
now,  for  last  night  I  came  across  a  verse  about  one, 
that  made  me  think  of  you,  and  I  learned  it  on  pur- 
pose to  say  to  you  —  sort  of  a  farewell  wish,  you 
know." 

"  Spouting  poetry  is  a  new  accomplishment  for 
you,  Bobby,"  said  Lloyd,  teasingly.  "  I  certainly 
want  to  hear  it.  Go  on." 

She  looked  down  to  thrust  the  stem  of  the  clover 
through  the  silver  arrow  that  fastened  her  belt, 


2Q2    THE  LITTLE   COLONEL:   MAID   OF  HONOR 

and  waited  with  an  expectant  smile  to  hear  what 
Limerick  or  nonsense  jingle  he  had  found  that  made 
him  think  of  her.  It  was  neither.  With  eyes  fixed 
on  the  little  symbol  he  was  outlining  on  the  bark 
of  the  tree,  he  recited  as  if  he  were  reading  the 
words  from  it : 

14  Love,  be  true  to  her ; 
Life,  be  dear  to  her ; 
Health,  stay  close  to  her ; 
Joy,  draw  near  to  her ; 
.  Fortune,  find  what  your  gifts 

Can  do  for  her. 
Search  your  treasure-house 
Through  and  through  for  her. 
Follow  her  steps 
The  wide  world  over ; 
You  must !  for  here  is 
The  four-leaved  clover." 

"  Why,  Rob,  that  is  lovely  I  "  she  exclaimed,  look- 
ing up  at  him,  surprised  and  pleased.  "  I'm  glad 
you  put  that  clovah  on  the  tree,  for  every  time  I 
look  at  it,  it  will  remind  me  of  yoah  wish,  and  —  " 

The  letter  she  had  been  carrying  fluttered  to  the 
ground.  He  stooped  to  pick  it  up  and  return  it  to 
her. 

"  That's  the  lettah  you  are  to  mail  for  me,"  she 
said,  giving  it  back  to  him.  "  Don't  forget  it,  for 
it's  impawtant." 


THE  GOLDEN  LEAF  OF  HONOR      293 

The  address  was  uppermost,  in  her  clear,  plain 
hand,  and  she  held  it  toward  him,  so  that  he  saw 
she  intended  him  to  read  it. 

"Hm!  Writing  to  Alex  Shelby,  are  you?"  he 
said,  with  his  usual  brotherly  frankness,  and  a  sniff 
that  plainly  showed  his  disapproval. 

"  It's  just  a  note  to  tell  him  that  I  can't  ride  with 
him  Thursday,"  she  answered,  turning  away. 

"Did  you  tell  him  the  reason?"  he  demanded, 
continuing  to  dig  into  the  tree. 

"  Of  co'se  not !  How  could  I  without  making 
Bernice  appeah  ridiculous  ?  " 

"  But  what  will  he  think  of  you,  if  you  don't?  " 

"  Oh,  I  don't  know !  I've  worried  ovah  it  until 
I'm  neahly  gray." 

Then  she  looked  up,  wondering  at  his  silence  and 
the  grave  intentness  with  which  he  was  regarding 
her. 

"  Oh,  Rob,  don't  tell  me,  aftah  all,  that  you  think 
it  was  silly  of  me !  I  thought  you'd  like  it !  It  was 
only  the  friendly  thing  to  do,  wasn't  it  ?  " 

He  gave  a  final  dig  with  his  knife,  then  turned  to 
look  down  into  her  wistful  eyes.  "  Lloyd  Sherman," 
he  said,  slowly,  "  you're  one  girl  whose  friendship 
means  something.  You  don't  measure  up  very  high 
on  this  old  locust,  but  when  it  comes  to  doing  the 


294    THE  LITTLE    COLONEL:  MAID   OF  HONOR 

square  thing  —  when  it's  a  question  of  honor,  you 
measure  up  like  a  man !  " 

Somehow  the  unwonted  tenderness  of  his  tone, 
the  grave  approval  of  his  smile,  touched  her  in  a 
way  she  had  not  believed  possible.  The  tears  sprang 
to  her  eyes.  There  was  a  little  tremor  in  her  voice 
that  she  tried  to  hide  with  a  laugh. 

"  Oh,  Rob !  I'm  so  glad !  Nothing  could  make 
me  happier  than  to  have  you  think  that !  " 

They  started  on  down  to  the  gate  together.  The 
only  sound  in  all  the  late  afternoon  sunshine  was  the 
soft  rustling  of  the  leaves  overhead.  How  many 
times  the  old  locusts  had  watched  their  yearly  part- 
ings !  As  they  reached  the  gate,  Rob  balanced  the 
letter  on  his  palm  an  instant.  Evidently  he  had 
been  thinking  of  it  all  the  way.  "  Yes,"  he  said, 
as  if  to  himself,  "  that  proves  a  right  to  the  third 
leaf."  Then  he  dropped  the  letter  in  his  pocket. 

Lloyd  looked  up,  almost  shyly.  "  Rob,  I  want 
to  tell  you  something.  Even  after  that  letter  was 
written  I  was  tempted  not  to  send  it.  I  was  sitting 
with  it  in  my  hand,  hesitating,  when  I  heard  yoah 
whistle  in  the  hall,  and  then  it  came  ovah  me  like 
a  flash,  all  you'd  said,  both  in  jest  and  earnest,  about 
friendship  and  what  it  should  count  for.  Well,  it 
was  the  old  test,  like  jumping  off  the  roof  and 


THE    GOLDEN  LEAF  OF  HONOR  295 

climbing-  the  chimney.  I  used  to  say  '  Bobby  ex- 
pects it  of  me,  so  I'll  do  it  or  die.'  It  was  that  way 
this  time.  So  if  I  have  found  the  third  leaf,  Rob, 
it  was  you  who  showed  me  where  to  look  for  it." 

Then  it  was  that  the  old  locusts,  watching  and 
nodding  overhead,  sent  a  long  whispering  sigh  from 
one  to  another.  They  knew  now  that  the  two  chil- 
dren who  had  romped  and  raced  in  their  shadows, 
who  had  laughed  and  sung  around  their  feet 
through  so  many  summers,  were  outgrowing  that 
childhood  at  last.  For  the  boy,  instead  of  answer- 
ing "  Oh,  pshaw !  "  in  bluff,  boyish  fashion,  as  he 
would  have  done  in  other  summers  gone,  impul- 
sively thrust  out  his  hands  to  clasp  both  of  hers. 

That  was  their  good-by.  Then  the  Little  Colonel, 
tall  and  slender  like  Elaine,  the  Lily  Maid,  turned 
and  walked  back  toward  the  house.  She  was  so 
happy  in  the  thought  that  she  had  found  the  golden 
leaf,  that  she  did  not  think  to  look  behind  her,  so 
she  did  not  see  what  the  locusts  saw  —  Rob  stand- 
ing there  watching  her,  till  she  passed  out  of  sight 
between  the  white  pillars.  But  the  grim  old  family 
sentinels,  who  were  always  watching,  nodded  know- 
ingly and  went  on  whispering  together. 

THE    END. 


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A  story  of  the  time  of  Christ,  which  is  one  of  the 

author's  best-known  books. 

C-2 


BOOKS  FOR    YOUNG  PEOPLE 


Asa  Holmes  ;  OR,  AT  THE  CROSS-ROADS.  A 
sketch  of  Country  Life  and  Country  Humor.  By 
ANNIE  FELLOWS  JOHNSTON.  With  a  frontispiece  by 
Ernest  Fosbery. 

Large  1 6mo,  cloth,  gilt  top         ..         .         .         #1.00 
"'Asa  Holmes;  or,  At  the  Cross-Roads'  is  the  most  de- 
lightful, most  sympathetic  and  wholesome  book  that  has  been 
published  in  a  long  while."  —  Boston  Times. 

The  Rival  Campers;    OR,  THE  ADVENTURES 
OF  HENRY  BURNS.     By  RUEL  PERLEY  SMITH. 
Square  I2mo,  cloth  decorative,  illustrated    .         $1.50 
Here  is  a  book  which  will  grip  and  enthuse  every  boy  reader. 
It  is  the  story  of  a  party  of  typical  American  lads,  coura- 
geous, alert,  and  athletic,  who  spend  a  summer  camping  on  an 
island  off  the  Maine  coast. 

"The  best  boys'  book  since  '  Tom  Sawyer.'"  —  San  Fran- 
cisco Examiner. 

The  Rival  Campers  Afloat;    OR,  THE 

PRIZE  YACHT  VIKING.     By  RUEL  PERLEY  SMITH. 
Square  I2mo,  cloth  decorative,  illustrated    .         $1.50 
This  book  is  a  continuation  of  the  adventures  of  "  The 
Rival  Campers  "  on  their  prize  yacht  Viking.     An  accidental 
collision  results  in  a  series  of  exciting  adventures,  culminat- 
ing in  a  mysterious  chase,  the  loss  of  their  prize  yacht,  and 
its  recapture  by  means  of  their  old  yacht,  Surprise. 

The  Rival  Campers  Ashore.    By  RUEL 

PERLEY  SMITH,  author   of   "  The  Rival   Campers," 

"  The  Rival  Campers  Afloat,"  etc. 

Square  I2mo,  cloth  decorative,  illustrated   .         $1.50 

"  The  Rival  Campers  Ashore  "  deals  with  the  adventures 
of  the  campers  and  their  friends  in  and  around  the  town  of 
Benton.  Mr.  Smith  introduces  a  new  character,  —  a  girl, — 
who  shows  them  the  way  to  an  old  mill,  around  which  the 
mystery  of  the  story  revolves.  The  girl  is  an  admirable  ac- 
quisition, proving  as  daring  and  resourceful  as  the  campers 
themselves. 
C-3 


L.  C.  PAGE   AND   COMPANY 'S 


The  Young  Section-Hand  ;  OR,  THE  AD- 
VENTURES OF  ALLAN  WEST.     By  BURTON  E.  STE- 
VENSON, author  of  "  The  Marathon  Mystery,"  etc. 
Square  I2mo,  cloth   decorative,  illustrated   by  L.  J. 
Bridgman        .         .         .         .         .         .  $1-50 

Mr.  Stevenson's  hero  is  a  manly  lad  of  sixteen,  who  is  given 
a  chance  as  a  section-hand  on  a  big  Western  railroad,  and 
whose  experiences  are  as  real  as  they  are  thrilling. 

The  Young  Train  Dispatcher.  By  BUR- 
TON E.  STEVENSON,  author  of  "  The  Young  Section- 
hand,"  etc. 

Square  I2mo,  cloth  decorative,  illustrated    .         $1.50 
The  young  hero  has  many  chances  to  prove  his  manliness 

and  courage  in  the  exciting  adventures  which  befall  him  in  the 

discharge  of  his  duty. 

Captain  Jack  Lorimer.  By  WINN  STAN- 
DISH. 

Square  I2mo,  cloth  decorative,  illustrated  by  A.  B. 
Shute $1-50 

Jack  is  a  fine  example  of  the  all-around  American  high- 
school  boy.  He  has  the  sturdy  qualities  boys  admire,  and 
his  fondness  for  clean,  honest  sport  of  all  kinds  will  strike  a 
chord  of  sympathy  among  athletic  youths. 

Jack  Lorinier's  Champions;  or,  sports 

on  Land  and  Lake.     By  WINN  STANDISH,  author  of 

"  Captain  Jack  Lorimer,"  etc. 

Square  izmo,  cloth  decorative,  illustrated  $1.50 

All  boys  and  girls  who  take  an  interest  in  school  athletics 
will  wish  to  read  of  the  exploits  of  the  Millvale  High  School 
students,  under  the  leadership  of  Captain  Jack  Lorimer. 

Captain  Jack's  Champions  play  quite  as  good  ball  as  do 
some  of  the  teams  on  the  large  leagues,  and  they  put  all 
opponents  to  good  hard  work  in  other  summer  sports. 

Jack  Lorimer  and  his  friends  stand  out  as  the  finest  ex- 
amples of  all-round  American  high  school  boys  and  girls. 


BOOKS  FOR   YOUNG  PEOPLE 


Beautiful  Joe's  Paradise  ;  OR,  THE  ISLAND 
OF  BROTHERLY  LOVE.  A  sequel  to  "  Beautiful  Joe." 
By  MARSHALL  SAUNDERS,  author  of  "  Beautiful  Joe." 
One  vol.,  library  1 2mo,  cloth,  illustrated  .  $1.50 

"  This  book  revives  the  spirit  of  '  Beautiful  Joe  '  capitally. 
It  is  fairly  riotous  with  fun,  and  as  a  whole  is  about  as  unusual 
as  anything  in  the  animal  book  line  that  has  seen  the  light.  It 
is  a  book  for  j  uveniles  —  old  and  young. " —  Philadelphia  Item. 

'Tilda  Jane.      By  MARSHALL  SAUNDERS. 

One  vol.,  I2mo,  fully  illustrated,  cloth  decorative,  $1.50 

"  It  is  one  of  those  exquisitely  simple  and  truthful  books 
that  win  and  charm  the  reader,  and  I  did  not  put  it  down 
until  I  had  finished  it  —  honest  1  And  I  am  sure  that  every 
one,  young  or  old,  who  reads  will  be  proud  and  happy  to 
make  the  acquaintance  of  the  delicious  waif. 

"  I  cannot  think  of  any  better  book  for  children  than  this. 
I  commend  it  unreservedly."  —  Cyrus  Townsend  Brady. 

The  Story  of  the  Graveleys.  By  MAR- 
SHALL SAUNDERS,  author  of  "  Beautiful  Joe's  Para- 
dise," "  'Tilda  Jane,"  etc. 

Library  i2mo,  cloth  decorative,  illustrated  by  E.  B. 
Barry $1.50 

Here  we  have  the  haps  and  mishaps,  the  trials  and  triumphs, 
of  a  delightful  New  England  family,  of  whose  devotion  and 
sturdiness  it  will  do  the  reader  good  to  hear. 

Bom  to  the  Blue.      By  FLORENCE  KIMBALL 
RUSSEL.  ' 
I2mo,  cloth  decorative,  illustrated        .         .         $1-25 

The  atmosphere  of  army  life  on  the  plains  breathes  on 
every  page  of  this  delightful  tale.  The  boy  is  the  son  of  a 
captain  of  U.  S.  cavalry  stationed  at  a  frontier  post  in  the 
days  when  our  regulars  earned  the  gratitude  of  a  nation. 


L.  C.  PAGE   AND   COMPANY'S 


In  West  Point  Ofay.      By  FLORENCE  KIM- 
BALL  RUSSEL. 

I2mo,  cloth  decorative,  illustrated        .         .         $1.25 
West  Point  forms  the  background  for  the  second  volume 

in  this  series,  and  gives  us  the  adventures  of  Jack  as  a  cadet. 

Here  the  training  of  his  childhood  days  in  the  frontier  army 

post  stands  him  in  good  stead ;  and  he  quickly  becomes  the 

central  figure  of  the  West  Point  life. 

The  Sandman;   His  Farm  Stories. 

By  WILLIAM  J.  HOPKINS.     With  fifty  illustrations  by 

Ada  Clendenin  Williamson. 

Large  1 2mo,  decorative  cover      .         .         .         $1.50 

"  An  amusing,  original  book,  written  for  the  benefit  of  very 
small  children.  It  should  be  one  of  the  most  popular  of  the 
year's  books  for  reading  to  small  children." — Buffalo  Ex- 
fress. 

The  Sandman :  More  Farm  Stories. 

By  WILLIAM  J.  HOPKINS. 

Large  I2mo,  decorative  cover,  fully  illustrated     $1.50 

Mr.  Hopkins's  first  essay  at  bedtime  stories  met  with  such 
approval  that  this  second  book  of  "  Sandman  "  tales  was 
issued  for  scores  of  eager  children.  Life  on  the  farm,  and 
out-of-doors,  is  portrayed  in  his  inimitable  manner. 

The    Sandman:  His    Ship  Stories. 

By  WILLIAM  J.  HOPKINS,  author  of  "  The  Sandman  : 

His   Farm   Stories,"    etc. 

Large  I2mo,  decorative  cover,  fully  illustrated   $1.50 

"  Mothers  and  fathers  and  kind  elder  sisters  who  put  the 
little  ones  to  bed,  and  rack  their  brains  for  stories,  will  find 
this  book  a  treasure."  —  Cleveland  Leader. 

"  Children  call  for  these  stories  over  and  over  again." — 
Chicago  Evening  Post. 
C-6 


BOOKS  FOR    YOUNG  PEOPLE 


PllSSy-Cat  Town.      By  MARION  AMES  TAG- 

GART. 

Small  quarto,  cloth  decorative,  illustrated  and  deco- 
rated in  colors     $1.00 

"  Pussy-Cat  Town  "  is  a  most  unusual  delightful  cat  story. 
Ban-Ban,  a  pure  Maltese  who  belonged  to  Rob,  Kiku-san, 
Lois's  beautiful  snow-white  pet,  and  their  neighbors  Bedelia 
the  tortoise-shell,  Madame  Laura  the  widow,  Wutz  Butz  the 
warrior,  and  wise  old  Tommy  Traddles,  were  really  and  truly 
cats. 

The  Roses  of  Saint  Elizabeth.    By  JANE 

SCOTT  WOODRUFF,  author  of  "  The  Little  Christmas 
Shoe." 

Small  quarto,  cloth  decorative,  illustrated  and  deco- 
rated in  colors  by  Adelaide  Everh  art        .         $1.00 

This  is  a  charming  little  story  of  a  child  whose  father  was 
caretaker  of  the  great  castle  of  the  Wartburg,  where  Saint 
Elizabeth  once  had  her  home. 

Gabriel  and  the  Hour  Book.    BYEVA- 

LEEN  STEIN. 

Small  quarto,  cloth  decorative,  illustrated  and  deco- 
rated in  colors  by  Adelaide  Everhart        .         $1.00 

Gabriel  was  a  loving,  patient,  little  French  lad,  who  assisted 
the  monks  in  the  long  ago  days,  when  all  the  books  were 
written  and  illuminated  by  hand,  in  the  monasteries. 

The    Enchanted    Automobile.    Trans- 
lated from  the  French  by  MARY  J.  SAFFORD. 
Small  quarto,  cloth  decorative,  illustrated  and  deco- 
rated in  colors  by  Edna  M.  Sawyer      .         .         $1.00 

The   enchanted  automobile   was  sent  by   the  fairy  god- 
mother of  a  lazy,  discontented  little  prince  and  princess  to 
take  them  to  fairyland,  where  they  might  visit  their  story- 
book favorites. 
C-7 


Z.   C.  PAGE  AND    COMPANY'S 


The  Red  Feathers.  By  THEODORE  ROBERTS, 
author  of  "  Brothers  of  Peril,"  etc. 
Cloth  decorative,  illustrated         .         .         .         $1.50 
"  The  Red  Feathers"  tells  of  the  remarkable  adventures  of 
an  Indian  boy  who  lived  in  the  Stone  Age,  many  years  ago, 
when  the  world  was  young,  and  when  fairies  and  magicians 
did  wonderful  things  for  their  friends  and  enemies. 

The  Wreck  of  the  Ocean  Queen.    By 

James  Otis,  author  of  "  Larry  Hudson's  Ambition," 

etc. 

Cloth  decorative,  illustrated         .         .         .         $1.50 

This  story  takes  its  readers  on  a  sea  voyage  around  the 
world ;  gives  them  a  trip  on  a  treasure  ship  ;  an  exciting  ex- 
perience in  a  terrific  gale;  and  finally  a  shipwreck,  with  a 
mutineering  crew  determined  to  take  the  treasure  to  compli- 
cate matters. 

But  only  the  mutineers  will  come  to  serious  harm,  and 
after  the  reader  has  known  the  thrilling  excitement  of  lack  of 
food  and  water,  of  attacks  by  night  and  day,  and  of  a  hand-to- 
hand  fight,  he  is  rescued  and  brought  safely  home  again,  — 
to  realize  that  it's  only  a  story,  but  a  stirring  and  realistic 
one.. 

Little  White  Indians.     By  FANNIE   E. 

OSTRANDER. 

Cloth  decorative,  illustrated         .         .         .         $1.25 
The  "  Little  White  Indians  "  were  two  families  of  children 

who  "  played  Indian  "  all  one  long  summer  vacation.     They 

built  wigwams   and   made  camps ;  they   went    hunting  and 

fought  fierce  battles  on  the  war-trail. 

A  bright,  interesting  story  which  will  appeal  strongly  to 

the  "  make-believe  "  instinct  in  children,  and  will  give  them  a 

healthy,  active  interest  in  "  the  simple  life." 

C-8 


BOOKS  FOR   YOUNG  PEOPLE 


PHYLLIS'  FIELD  FRIENDS  SERIES 

By  LENORE  E.  MULETS 
Six   vols.,   cloth    decorative,    illustrated    by    Sophie 
Schneider.     Sold  separately,  or  as  a  set. 

Per  volume $1.00 

Per  set    ........      6.00 

Insect  Stories. 

Stories  of  Little  Animals. 

Flower  Stories. 

Bird  Stories. 

Tree  Stories. 

Stories  of  Little  Fishes. 

In  this  series  of  six  little  Nature  books,  it  is  the  author's  in- 
tention so  to  present  to  the  child  reader  the  facts  about  each 
particular  flower,  insect,  bird,  or  animal,  in  story  form,  as  to 
make  delightful  reading.  Classical  legends,  myths,  poems, 
and  songs  are  so  introduced  as  to  correlate  fully  with  these 
lessons,  to  which  the  excellent  illustrations  are  no  little  help. 

THE  WOODRANGER  TALES 

By  G.   WALDO  BROWNE 

The  Wood  ranger. 
The  Young  Qunbearer; 
The  Hero  of  the  Hills. 
With  Rogers'   Rangers. 

Each    I  vol.,  large   I2mo,  cloth,  decorative  cover,  illus- 
trated, per  volume  .         .         .         .         .         .     $1.25 

Four  vols.,  boxed,  per  set        ....       S.oo 

"  The  Woodranger  Tales,"  like  the  "  Pathfinder  Tales  "  of 
J.  Fenimore  Cooper,  combine  historical  information  relating 
to  early  pioneer  days  in  America  with  interesting  adventures 
in  the  backwoods.  Although  the  same  characters  are  con- 
tinued throughout  the  series,  each  book  is  complete  in  itself, 
and,  while  based  strictly  on  historical  facts,  is  an  interesting 
and  exciting  tale  of  adventure. 
C-fl 


THE  LITTLE  COUSIN  SERIES 

The  most  delightful  and  interesting  accounts  possible 
of  child  life  in  other  lands,  filled  with  quaint  sayings, 
doings,  and  adventures. 

Each  one  vol.,  1 2mo,  decorative  cover,  cloth,  with  six  or  more 
full-page  illustrations  in  color. 

Price  per  volume $0.60 

By    MARY     HAZELTON     WADE     (unless     otherwise 
indicated} 

Our  Little  African  Cousin         Our  Little  Irish  Cousin 
Our  Little  Alaskan  Cousin        Our  Little  Italian  Cousin 
By  Mary  F.  Nixon -Roulet    Qur  Utt,e  Japanese  Cousin 

Our  Little  Arabian  Cousin  Qur  Uttle  Jewij(h  Cousin 

By  Blanche  McManus 

_       . .    ,  _  Our  Little  Korean  Cousin 

Our  Little  Armenian  Cousin  By  H  Lee  M.  Pike 

Our  Little  Brown  Cousin  Our  Ljttle  Mexican  Cousin 
Our  Little  Canadian  Cousin  By  Edward  C.  Butler 

By  Elizabeth  R.  Macdonald  Qur  Little  Norwegian  Cousin 

Our  Little  Chinese  Cousin  Our  Ljttle  Panama  Cousin 

By  Isaac  Taylor  Headland  By  H    Lee  M   Pike 

Our  Little  Cuban  Cousin  Our  Uttle  Philippine  Cousin 

Our  Little  Dutch  Cousin  Our  Little  Porto  Rican  Cousin 

By  Blanche  McManus 

**.      i  •    i    r-      i-  L  f*       •  Our  Little  Russian  Cousin 

Our  Little  English  Cousin          ^ 

By  Blanche  McManus    Our  "»  Scotch  Cousm 

J  By  Blanche  McManus 

Our  Little  Eskimo  Cousin 

Our  Little  Siamese  Cousin 
Our  Little  French  Cousin          ^ 

By  Blanche  McManus    Our  Little  Spanish  Cousin 

By  Mary  F.  Nixon -Roulet 
Our  Little  German  Cousin        ^      /.    , 

Our  Little  Swedish  Cousin 
Our  Little  Hawaiian  Cousin  By  Claire  M  Coburn 

Our  Little  Hindu  Cousin  Qur  Uttle  Sw;88  Cousin 

By  Blanche  McManus 

,  \    ,.       _  Our  Little  Turkish  Cousin 

Our  Little  Indian  Cousin 

C-10 


COSY  CORNER  SERIES 

It  is  the  intention  of  the  publishers  that  this  series  shall 
contain  only  the  very  highest  and  purest  literature,  — 
stories  that  shall  not  only  appeal  to  the  children  them- 
selves, but  be  appreciated  by  all  those  who  feel  with 
them  in  their  joys  and  sorrows. 

The  numerous  illustrations  in  each  book  are  by  well- 
known  artists,  and  each  volume  has  a  separate  attrac- 
tive cover  design. 

Each  i  vol.,  i6mo,  cloth          ....         $0.50 

By  ANNIE  FELLOWS  JOHNSTON 

The  Little  Colonel.          (Trade  Mark.) 

The  scene  of  this  story  is  laid  in  Kentucky.  Its  hero- 
ine is  a  small  girl,  who  is  known  as  the  Little  Colonel, 
on  account  of  her  fancied  resemblance  to  an  old-school 
Southern  gentleman,  whose  fine  estate  and  old  family 
are  famous  in  the  region. 

The  Giant  Scissors. 

This  is  the  story  of  Joyce  and  of  her  adventures 
in  France.  Joyce  is  a  great  friend  of  the  Little  Colonel, 
and  in  later  volumes  shares  with  her  the  delightful  ex- 
periences of  the  "  House  Party  "  and  the  "  Holidays." 

Two  Little  Knights  of  Kentucky. 

WHO  WERE  THE  LITTLE  COLONEL'S  NEIGHBORS. 

In  this  volume  the  Little  Colonel  returns  to  us  like  an 
old  friend,  but  with  added  grace  and  charm.  She  is 
not,  however,  the  central  figure  of  the  story,  that  place 
being  taken  by  the  "  two  little  knights." 

Mildred's  Inheritance. 

A  delightful  little  story  of  a  lonely  English  girl  who 
comes  to  America  and  is  befriended  by  a  sympathetic 
American  family  who  are  attracted  by  her  beautiful 
speaking  voice.  By  means  of  this  one  gift  she  is  en- 
abled to  help  a  school-girl  who  has  temporarily  lost  the 
use  of  her  eyes,  and  thus  finally  her  life  becomes  a  busy, 
happy  one. 
C-ll 


L.  C.  PAGE  AND  COMPANY'S 


By  ANNIE  FELLOWS  JOHNSTON  (Continued) 

Cicely  and  Other  Stories  for  Girls. 

The  readers  of  Mrs.  Johnston's  charming  juveniles 
will  be  glad  to  learn  of  the  issue  of  this  volume  for 
young  people. 

Aunt  'Liza's  Hero  and  Other  Stories. 

A  collection  of  six  bright  little  stories,  which  will 
appeal  to  all  boys  and  most  girls. 

Big  Brother. 

A  story  of  two  boys.  The  devotion  and  care  of 
Steven,  himself  a  small  boy,  for  his  baby  brother,  is  the 
theme  of  the  simple  tale. 

Ole  Mammy's  Torment. 

"  Ole  Mammy's  Torment "  has  been  fitly  called  "  a 
classic  of  Southern  life."  It  relates  the  haps  and  mis- 
haps of  a  small  negro  lad,  and  tells  how  he  was  led  by 
love  and  kindness  to  a  knowledge  of  the  right. 

The  Story  of  Dago. 

In  this  story  Mrs.  Johnston  relates  the  story  of  Dago, 
a  pet  monkey,  owned  jointly  by  two  brothers.  Dago 
tells  his  own  story,  and  the  account  of  his  haps  and  mis- 
haps is  both  interesting  and  amusing. 

The  Quilt  That  Jack  Built. 

A  pleasant  little  story  of  a  boy's  labor  of  love,  and 
how  it  changed  the  course  of  his  life  many  years  after 
it  was  accomplished. 

Flip's  Islands  of  Providence. 

A  story  of  a  boy's  life  battle,  his  early  defeat,  and  his 
final  triumph,  well  worth  the  reading. 


COSY  CORNER  SERIES 


By  EDITH  ROBINSON 

A  Little  Puritan's  First  Christmas. 

A  Story  of  Colonial  times  in  Boston,  telling  how 
Christmas  was  invented  by  Betty  Sewall,  a  typical  child 
of  the  Puritans,  aided  by  her  brother  Sam. 

A  Little  Daughter  of  Liberty. 

The  author  introduces  this  story  as  follows  : 
"  One  ride  is  memorable  in  the  early  history  of  the 
American  Revolution,  the  well-known  ride  of  Paul 
Revere.  Equally  deserving  of  commendation  is  another 
ride,  —  the  ride  of  Anthony  Severn,  —  which  was  no  less 
historic  in  its  action  or  memorable  in  its  consequences." 

A  Loyal  Little  Maid. 

A  delightful  and  interesting  story  of  Revolutionary 
days,  in  which  the  child  heroine,  Betsey  Schuyler, 
renders  important  services  to  George  Washington. 

A  Little  Puritan  Rebel. 

This  is  an  historical  tale  of  a  real  girl,  during  the 
time  when  the  gallant  Sir  Harry  Vane  was  governor  of 
Massachusetts. 

A  Little  Puritan  Pioneer. 

The  scene  of  this  story  is  laid  in  the  Puritan  settle- 
ment at  Charlestown. 

A  Little  Puritan  Bound  Girl. 

A  story  of  Boston  in  Puritan  days,  which  is  of  great 
interest  to  youthful  readers. 

A  Little  Puritan  Cavalier. 

The  story  of  a  «  Little  Puritan  Cavalier  "  who  tried 
with  all  his  boyish  enthusiasm  to  emulate  the  spirit  and 
ideals  of  the  dead  Crusaders. 

A  Puritan  Knight  Errant. 

The  story  tells  of  a  young  lad  in  Colonial  times  who 
endeavored  to  carry  out  the  high  ideals  of  the  knights 
of  olden  days, 

C-13 


L.  C.  PAGE   AND  COMPANY'S 


By  QUID  A  (Louise  de  la  Ramie} 

A   Dog  Of   Flanders  :  A  CHRISTMAS  STORY. 
Too  well  and  favorably  known  to  require  description. 

The  Nurnberg  Stove. 

This  beautiful  story  has  never  before  been  published 
at  a  popular  price. 

By  FRANCES  MARGARET  FOX 

The  Little  Giant's  Neighbours. 

A  charming  nature  story  of  a  "  little  giant "  whose 
neighbours  were  the  creatures  of  the  field  and  garden. 

Farmer  Brown  and  the  Birds. 

A  little  story  which  teaches  children  that  the  birds 
are  man's  best  friends. 

Betty  of  Old  Mackinaw. 

A  charming  story  of  child-life,  appealing  especially  to 
the  little  readers  who  like  stories  of  "  real  people." 

Brother  Billy. 

The  story  of  Betty's  brother,  and  some  further  ad- 
ventures of  Betty  herself. 

Mother  Nature's  Little  Ones. 

Curious  little  sketches  describing  the  early  lifetime, 
or  "  childhood,"  of  the  little  creatures  out-of-doors. 

How  Christmas  Came  to  the  Mul- 
vaneys. 

A  bright,  lifelike  little  story  of  a  family  of  poor  chil- 
dren, with  an  unlimited  capacity  for  fun  and  mischief. 
The  wonderful  never-to-be  forgotten  Christmas  that 
came  to  them  is  the  climax  of  a  series  of  exciting  inci- 
dents. 


COSY  CORNER  SERJES 


By  MISS  MULOCK 

The  Little  Lame  Prince. 

A  delightful  story  of  a  little  boy  who  has  many  ad- 
ventures by  means  of  the  magic  gifts  of  his  fairy  god- 
mother. 

Adventures  of  a  Brownie. 

The  story  of  a  household  elf  who  torments  the  cook 
and  gardener,  but  is  a  constant  joy  and  delight  to  the 
children  who  love  and  trust  him. 

His  Little  Mother. 

Miss  Mulock's  short  stories  for  children  are  a  constant 
source  of  delight  to  them,  and  "  His  Little  Mother,"  in 
this  new  and  attractive  dress,  will  be  welcomed  by  hosts 
of  youthful  readers. 

Little  Sunshine's  Holiday. 

An  attractive  story  of  a  summer  outing.  "  Little  Sun- 
shine "  is  another  of  those  beautiful  child-characters  for 
which  Miss  Mulock  is  so  justly  famous. 

By   MARSHALL    SAUNDERS 

For  His  Country. 

A  sweet  and  graceful  story  of  a  little  boy  who  loved 
his  country;  written  with  that  charm  which  has  endeared 
Miss  Saunders  to  hosts  of  readers. 

Nita,  the  Story  of  an  Irish  Setter. 

In  this  touching  little  book,  Miss  Saunders  shows  how 
dear  to  her  heart  are  all  of  God's  dumb  creatures. 

Alpatok,   the  Story  of  an    Eskimo 
Dog. 

Alpatok,  an  Eskimo  dog  from  the  far  north,  was  stolen 
from  his  master  and  left  to  starve  in  a  strange  city,  but 
was  befriended  and  cared  for,  until  he  was  able  to  re- 
turn to  his  owner. 
C-15 


Z.   C.  PAGE  AND   COMPANY'S 
By  WILL  ALLEN  DROMGOOLE 

The  Farrier's  Dog  and  His  Fellow. 

This  story,  written  by  the  gifted  young  Southern 
woman,  will  appeal  to  all  that  is  best  in  the  natures  of 
the  many  admirers  of  her  graceful  and  piquant  style. 

The  Fortunes  of  the  Fellow. 

Those  who  read  and  enjoyed  the  pathos  and  charm 
of  "  The  Farrier's  Dog  and  His  Fellow "  will  welcome 
the  further  account  of  the  adventures  of  Baydaw  and 
the  Fellow  at  the  home  of  the  kindly  smith. 

The  Best  of  Friends. 

This  continues  the  experiences  of  the  Farrier's  dog  and 
his  Fellow,  written  in  Miss  Dromgoole's  well-known 
charming  style. 

Down  in  Dixie. 

A  fascinating  story  for  boys  and  girls,  of  a  family  of 
Alabama  children  who  move  to  Florida  and  grow  up  in 
the  South. 


By  MARIAN  W.  WILDMAN 

Loyalty  Island. 

An  account  of  the  adventures  of  four  children  and 
their  pet  dog  on  an  island,  and  how  they  cleared  their 
brother  from  the  suspicion  of  dishonesty. 

Theodore  and  Theodora. 

This  is  a  story  of  the  exploits  and  mishaps  of  two  mis- 
chievous twins,  and   continues   the   adventures   of   the 
interesting  group  of  children  in  "  Loyalty  Island." 
C-16 


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